


Skeletons in the Closet (and flowers by the window)

by Raining_Sky_Guy



Category: Bleach
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Character Development, Dealing with age difference, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Kurosaki Ichigo-centric, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sacrifice, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Urahara Kisuke POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-05-16 04:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14804247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raining_Sky_Guy/pseuds/Raining_Sky_Guy
Summary: Kisuke has a plan. He always has, and he’s very good at seeing it to completion no matter what. But as he grooms that noble boy into the perfect weapon to defeat Aizen, he begins to regret ever pursuing this idea. He regrets because that boy matures into a soul with a heart of gold and a will of steel and he falls for all that and more even though he knows he doesn’t deserve him (at all).Fortunately for him, Ichigo has never known what’s good for him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WHOO BOY.  
> Doesn't follow the prompts, but I'm not sure the Angel fic is going to be able to be posted today.  
> This story has been stewing in my hard drive since 2015* according to the oldest version I could pull up.  
> This is slow and massive and I hope you enjoy the ride.
> 
> *Edit: found an earlier version that dated back to 2014 wow.

The first time Kisuke met Kurosaki Ichigo, he was barely a year old, with big brown eyes and a mop of unnaturally bright hair. Kurosaki Masaki had insisted on presenting him to the man who had saved her and Kisuke smiled politely and accepted the kid in his arms despite Isshin’s and his own reluctance.

The man would normally have no interest in children, but the small bundle currently (forced) on his arms was not human, nor was it Shinigami.

He was part Quincy, and part Shinigami. Noble on both sides of the family.

If this boy survived his childhood (he had read that human children had the highest morbidity and mortality rates, compared to adult humans), he would probably be a terrifying force of nature.

Kisuke had trouble hiding his excitement from the happy couple. He was dying to see.

 

* * *

 

The second time they had coincided on the same space, Kisuke had accidentally almost walked in on Kurosaki. Well not exactly, after all it was pretty hard to miss him with his huge reiatsu waving a giant neon red flag telling anyone where he was; but as the years went on, it began fading as background noise…and maybe he had been keeping an eye on (stalking) said boy.

He had been alerted that something was different as the signal began fading, as its owner abandoned the tightly supervised area he frequented and when Kisuke actually focused, he noticed that the direction the boy was headed was _not_ a part of the town that was kids-friendly.

Curious at this anomaly, he had followed after the boy. He kept his distance, but it was soon evident that the boy hadn’t been cajoled into anything nor was he being kidnapped. The boy just walked and walked until he scurried between a broken fence and finally he stopped.

Kisuke peered inside curiously and was relieved to see that it was just an abandoned house (and Kurosaki hadn’t entered, he just sat by the doorway, on the raised platform), not a _shop_. The shopkeeper was almost going to leave again —he was just keeping an eye on the boy, he wasn’t going to pry into his private life— but a certain gesture from the boy piqued his curiosity.

Was the boy …crying?

Granted that wasn’t exactly surprising, what with his mother’s first death anniversary just past; but why go all the way here to cry? Why alone? He knew from the casual comment from Isshin, that his only son was a total crybaby, crying shamelessly in front of anyone…Though those words were from two years ago. Before Masaki’s passing.

Maybe that had been the trigger? Kisuke’s analytical mind mussed, brow creasing in consideration. Maybe. But he would never know what with the many available possibilities and unknown factors. The father of the boy didn’t tell him much about his character —and really, there had never been any real need to. And judging by the situation, many things had changed since then. Besides, there was just no point in theorizing-

An especially torn, loud sob broke him from his reverie and the more moral part of him resurfaced from its deeply buried spot to chastise Kisuke for thinking up theories of a grieving boy he had mere steps from him. Grey eyes went back to Kurosaki, noting how the boy was no longer covering his face but was instead —apparently— trying to calm himself down by hugging himself and rocking himself back and forth. With increasing concern, the sand-blond man noticed how the boy’s eyes were completely _dry_.

“I-I have to…have to c-calm down…” He mumbled to himself, his voice more of a hoarse croak than anything, as he struggled to keep his breathing even. Surprisingly he was doing a great job at it. Mentally giving himself a smack of admonishment, Kisuke reminded himself that he was an —arguably— responsible adult, and that he should go comfort the crying child.

‘ _Right…’_ Kisuke thought, grimacing slightly. ‘ _How exactly does one do that?’_ He felt somewhat guilty when he had no clue whatsoever on how to approach this…particular problem. Maybe he could offer the kid some candy to calm down? Kisuke imagined the supposed scenario and promptly willed it to go away. It would be creepy in any sense, and even if Kisuke meant well and convinced the boy, what would he be teaching the boy?

‘ _You’re supposed to be a renowned genius, Kisuke! Think! There has to be-‘_ His eyes flickered once again to the boy, halting his self-reprimand. Kurosaki was already up, patting his cheeks and giving deep breaths. He seemed well enough. Well enough to make a certain shopkeeper feel embarrassed of his rushed reaction. Deciding to stick to the shadows for the moment, Kisuke watched as the scowling boy glanced at his wristwatch in sudden alarm and rushed back home. Forgetting in his haste, a small paper flower that delicately fell to the ground.

Kisuke picked it up. Giving it a few turns in his hand, he guessed that this handicraft was most probably an offering for the boy’s mother. Poor Kurosaki-san would not be very happy to realize he had lost it.  He could always leave it there, but it could either get blown by the wind or stolen. And unfortunately the ex-captain couldn’t just go to the other’s house to deliver it. It would need an explanation, which Kisuke wasn’t willing to give. Because he would either have to admit that he had followed Kurosaki-san to his house (making him a stalker) or having to explain to Isshin about why he was there (not worth the effort) so all the blond could do was wait until the boy returned to the abandoned house. Ironically, that meant to wait for the boy to cry again, just marvelous.

* * *

 

Kisuke had been tinkering with one of his experiments when he felt Kurosaki-san’s reiatsu deviate from his routine. It took a moment for his befuddled mind to understand why this was important and what he had planned to do when this happened again.

He was in such a rush that he spilled the contest of a test tube on the floor. Cursing colorfully, the shopkeeper ignored the mess and instead just shot out of his shoten in a hurry.

The blond gave thanks he had arrived before Kurosaki-san and carefully placed the flower where the boy had sat the last time and hid himself. He hadn’t had to wait long to feel the kid approaching. A bob of orange appeared by the —carefully watched— alley and made his way to his spot. The kid had a blank expression on him as he hoisted himself up to get in a good sitting position. And promptly froze at the sight of a certain paper flower. Kisuke worried a bit as the child just continued to stare at the flower in silence before tears appeared on the boy’s face. Kurosaki-san stretched a trembling hand out to touch it and at realizing it was indeed real, the boy grabbed it and cradled it in his arms as tears streaked his smiling face.

This time, the kid just stayed long enough to dry his tears before hurrying away—most likely to place the handicraft at Masaki’s grave.

By then, Kisuke had already been long gone, his duty over and so he failed to see the child stop on his way out to look curiously at the floor, where there seemed to be some funny looking tracks leading up to where his flower had been. He tilted his head in confusion, it was a pattern almost like footprints but there were no shoes that would leave marks like that. Also that they seemed to be dripping a purple paint all over.

Maybe it was an animal.

The little boy shrugged and went on his way.

* * *

 

“Ah, Kisuke! Over here!” Kurosaki Isshin yelled, waving at Kisuke from across the half-empty bar. The bar they were meeting at was at the perfect distance from both his shop and the Kurosaki Clinic and it was never full and Kisuke liked to ensure it remained that way because it was his and Isshin’s rendezvous location. He wasn’t exactly happy of having this man over at his shop after all. Kisuke smiled blandly and he made his way towards him.

 “What a nice evening we’re having today, huh?” Kisuke said as he took a seat beside him. He placed his order, before he turned to face the other ex-captain. “So? It’s been several years now, if I presume correctly. How have your children been?”

Isshin guffawed loudly, his alcohol-tinted breath assaulting Kisuke at once. “We’ve been fine, old friend! And I’m guessing yer not doing bad yerself, eh?” He ended, with a slap on Kisuke’s back that almost made him spill his freshly-brewed drink.

Kisuke refrained from glaring or rolling his eyes but his words still carried his annoyance with clarity. “Isshin-san, would it kill you to be serious for a moment?”

Isshin’s face cleared of emotion and for one frightening second, he was back to being Shiba-taicho, captain of the Tenth.

“The children… they’re coping. I guess you could say.” Kisuke actually looked invested, so with a side glance he continued. “Yuzu-chan is doing the housework. She seemed to decide she needed to take over her, she took command of the kitchen and the house. Of everything really.” Kisuke didn’t say anything about how Isshin didn’t say his late wife’s name, instead, he kept on drinking and listening. “Karin also helps when she can but she’s not that skilled at housework. She goes out for groceries instead. With them I’m really not of much use.” Isshin laughed briefly.

“Do you offer your help?” The shopkeeper inquired and was met with an ironic smile.

“I’m the idiotic father, remember?”

“I _told_ you that façade would help you in nothing.” Kisuke said in exasperation, even as he laughed. “Though, sometimes ‘idiotic’ is the only word needed to describe you.”

“They don’t let me. And I’m not forcing them to stop either. Their mother was such an important figure in their lives. They need this.”

“If you want to, I could bring over Ururu some time. Maybe the three of them can exchange some tips. Ururu also likes helping around the shop.”

“That would be great.” The Kurosaki patriarch smiled, less grimly this time before apparently deciding the subject was over. Which by all accounts was weird.

“And what about your son?” The words were out even before Kisuke decided whether it was worth to pry. Isshin looked just as surprised as Kisuke felt (though he hid it).

“Well, what about him?”

“How is he coping?” Kisuke added, feeling annoyed at having to clarify every single detail.

“Oh. He also helps around with what he can. Protects the girls from bullies, stuff like that… He doesn’t smile anymore.”

Kisuke didn’t say anything else on the matter as he downed his beer. Isshin seemed relieved to drop such a heavy subject. The rest of the night was spent in relaxed banter, though Kisuke left when Isshin fell asleep on his seat. He would later get nagged on because he left him there but he had his own headache to account for.

‘I wonder what’s really going around in Kurosaki-san’s head.’ The shopkeeper thought briefly before he brushed it off. It’s not like it was his problem anyway.

The boy had been born with a purpose in mind. Kisuke just needed him to survive long enough to fight Aizen.

* * *

 

Kisuke had already forgotten about that little detail when the still-increasing reiatsu from the (older) child seemed to dim and the pulses seemed to indicate he was going somewhere else…

Kisuke finished whatever he had been doing and paused. He had a pretty good guess on where the boy would be going, so there was no actual need to go out of his way this time. Although, it was interesting to note that it had already been approximately one year since the last time he’d gone to cry. Had there been no real reason until now? But Isshin had claimed that the boy had been a crybaby, maybe finally he was falling back to his old habits.

Kisuke doesn’t really know what drove him to that abandoned place again. He wasn’t quite surprised to see the pre-teen sitting exactly the same way he had been the other times, but Kurosaki-san just stared at his hands. Not shedding a tear, not sobbing, face not twisted in grief. He just blankly stared at his hands, feet dangling. He stayed like that, motionless, almost unblinkingly until the sun started to set.

A single tear fell down his face, which seemed to startle both males. Though the boy, instead of starting to cry, just scrunched his face in surprising anger as he hastily rubbed the tear away. Kisuke heard the boy utter some profanities he hadn’t expected (really, where had he learned those?) and inhale loudly. The Kurosaki son did some wind-milling movements with his arms. He stretched some more. His reiatsu relaxing a bit. After that, the preteen plastered on his increasingly-usual scowl and retraced his footsteps, heading for his house.

* * *

 

And it kept going on like this. Kisuke kept going to offer his silent, un-asked, un-noticed presence as he had no idea what else to do. Kurosaki-san obviously wanted to keep his breakdowns a secret. Though his expression increasingly soured at Isshin’s apparent lack of concern. (“Yes, I’ve noticed. But that kid always keeps to himself… I bet it’s just a phase. Y’know, teenage angst…”)

Kisuke stared unblinkingly at the far too small teen, whose screams of (self-?) hate pierced the sky, whose body was wreaked by tear-less sobs. This was definitely not teenage angst. But before Kisuke could even start to wonder if he should confront Isshin about it, the incidents just… _stopped_.

Curious, the shopkeeper passed once or twice by the young male’s way to gauge his expression. His overflowing reiatsu too grand of a whole to detect a single emotion from it. A strongly felt emotion anyways. But the kid’s face gave of the same feeling of his reiatsu. He was closed off. Kisuke, an expert at this, couldn’t read a single emotion on this teen; he wasn’t losing his touch it just was that Kurosaki-san didn’t feel an emotion so strong that it would show on his face. Which honestly wasn’t a good thing. He only saw his deep-set scowl ease when he neared home and was greeted by his sisters. He didn’t smile and Kisuke assumed that this teen’s version of a fond smile was a softer scowl.

But it wasn’t like it was his business, or even should be his concern. The kid was alive and that’s all he was supposed to watch. He willed his mind away from the eternally scowling teen once again when… Kuchiki Rukia happened.

She appeared, reminding Kisuke of plans he needed to set up immediately. He needed to hide _it._

 

(When Kisuke felt Kurosaki’s reiatsu take in Rukia’s, he closed his eyes briefly. He was surprised he could still feel guilt this far in.)

* * *

 

Several events after Rukia’s arrival he finally ‘met’ Kurosaki Ichigo. There was no need to say that he was mildly surprised at seeing him up close (and twice, since the Mod soul was occupying his body). ‘ _I’m glad for him that he didn’t take after Isshin-san._ ’ The shopkeeper thought amusedly. He then proceeded to play with the teen’s and Kuchiki’s compassion to save the Mod soul and patted himself on the back for a job well done.

Kisuke helped them out—mostly Rukia—, continuing his stopped (halted) assessment of the young Kurosaki. He managed to glean emotion from him and he didn’t like it. He has just been introduced to a ‘magical world’ so why was the emotion displayed not curiosity?

If anything, the boy was wary.

Ah that’s right. The shop manager said to himself. Masaki’s death anniversary. And this time around he knew Kurosaki wouldn’t relieve his stress as usual since Rukia would find out. This just might be tougher for him this year around.

As the anniversary inevitably rolled around, Kisuke found himself paying close attention to the reiatsu signals floating all around. He was not surprised to sense Rukia forcing her way into the grave visit, but he actually frowned at sensing another foreign presence sniffing around them. Nosy Shinigami.

Kisuke was placidly sitting on the entrance to the shop, finger tapping idly –erratically– against his leg as he continued assessing what was going on. He didn’t really understand what that other Shinigami was doing there, and the Hogyouku hadn’t yet fully merged with Rukia so he didn’t want to risk her being taken away before that.

There was a sudden spike of an unpleasantly familiar reiatsu. Grand Fisher was here.

Chaos ensued.

 

The foreign Shinigami was defeated easily enough and even before that, there was a spike in reiatsu that was almost visible as Ichigo reared himself to fight. Kisuke told himself he wasn’t feeling queasy at all. Not at all.

Kurosaki’s reiatsu dropped… wasn’t that Masaki’s reiatsu signal? Was it? He wondered if Isshin… As if there was no way he wasn’t paying as much attention to this fight as Kisuke himself.

But, before he could dwell on it any longer, everything seemed to end alright. Not until then did he allow himself to relax…and not until then he realized he had been a step away from his shop, hands posed on his cane as if he were to separate it in two.

What was he doing? Kisuke wondered to himself as he tried to look far more relaxed than he felt, as if he had gone outside just to breath in the fresh air. Was he thinking on going out to help? Why? ‘ _Why in such a rush, Kisuke?_ ’ He asked himself, as he pulled his hat down again.

“Manager, are you coming in?” Tessai popped his head out, probably having been looking for him. That's enough for Kisuke to regain control over himself and he twirled Benihime in his hands as he turned around to smile at his friend.

“Ah, Tessai, yes, yes, wait for me~!”

Yes, why indeed.

* * *

 

Time passed and again Kisuke kept to himself until the resident Quincy boy made his move. A foolish one at it, but this time Kisuke kept his composure. As long as Grand Fisher didn’t come around it would be fine. For who? For the kid he had promised to protect.

And said kid’s reiatsu was just going to make things worse. Kisuke chuckled as far more hollows appeared than the Quincy could take down. Wasn’t this amusing? Ryuuken’s son would surely have noticed Kurosaki-san’s abnormally high reiatsu. He just forgot to do his math. And that just might cost lives. Kisuke’s smile faded, he sat down and closed his eyes. He would pay attention just in case…

There was a big-assed _gap_ in the sky. The size was just ridiculous. Looks like even Kisuke messed up his calculations a little. But nothing had crossed over yet; still he’d better get help from Kurosaki-san’s recently awakened friends and keep a closer eye on everything.

Hell, the Menos was a big challenge. Time to see how Kurosaki-san (the only other one strong enough) was holding up. Kisuke knew Soul Society would capture Kuchiki-san soon enough, Kurosaki-san needed to get better _fast_.

“Geta-boushi?” Kurosaki-san had said in surprise at his appearance. The shopkeeper had to pause a second to take it in. That nickname was…hilarious. So he was the Sandal-Hat guy? He had to admit that anyone who knew him would get who Kurosaki-san was talking about right away. Still funny.

Kisuke felt concern when his not-protégée’s only plan was to hack away at the Menos with brute force. Thankfully Ishida-kun went after him. The tsundere wouldn’t let Kurosaki-san die. The Quincy should provide Kurosaki-san with battle insight and the idea of plans. As little as he knew, every bit of knowledge was welcome.

He  had ended spying on the pair that set off to kill the Menos. He had to say…those teens looked ridiculous. That sword and…Pfft. The plan was smart; it was just that…They looked like idiots, the both of them, Kisuke thought fondly.

The Menos was scared off and everything was just fine and dandy. Except that it wasn’t. Kurosaki-san’s sudden strain on his soul was about to show its drawbacks.

 

As Kisuke stared, impassively, the teen cried out in anguish, the sudden strain of power on his soul too much for him to handle. But he needed to handle it. This amount was barely enough for him to team up with a Quincy to take down a Menos.

The boy was growing in leaps and bounds but a little voice nagged at him from the deepest pits of his soul.

Would the boy be ready when Soul Society finally made its move?

* * *

 

 

“Kisuke, is the Kurosaki boy ready?” Straight to the crux of Kisuke’s concerns, that always seemed to be Yoruichi’s gift. The shopkeeper went around the room, found a cat toy and returned to her side.

“Here, here, kitty~” Kisuke said as he dangled the toy in the cat’s face. The blond kept doing that in silence, Yoruichi ignoring him completely, until he set the toy down and the man sighed. “I’m not sure.”

“Funny, I don’t think I’ve heard you say that in a while.” The black cat mocked him with her gruff voice, eyes locked on his. Yoruichi grabbed the faux mouse Kisuke had left alone and started to toy with it in true cat fashion. “Well, whether he is ready or not, _they_ have arrived. You’d better help the boy out a bit.”

Kisuke had to wonder why did this devious woman seemed far too amused for the situation at hand. Well, he could figure it out later, right now, he needed to see how he could inconspicuously help the teen.

* * *

 

Not ready. Not ready at all. It was true that Ichigo had been growing at an exponential rate, but that didn’t make up for facing actual opponents. He needed to know about strategy, about thinking on his feet, but there was no time to tell him, to _teach_ him how to fight.

As the reiatsu signals rose and fell with their owners’ emotions, Kisuke kept reprimanding himself. The kid was just used to hack away at low level hollows, what had he been expecting when he sent the boy to fight against a war veteran? Monstrously high reiatsu didn’t make up for years of experience, even less so, if Kurosaki-san had no clue how to properly use it.

If the boy died, it would be solely Kisuke’s fault.

As soon as the fight was over, as soon as the shinigami group left, Kisuke left the shop in a flit of shunpo, ignoring the calls of Yoruichi. Specks of water hit his face and it took him a moment to understand what they were. It was raining.

 He noticed he had brought an umbrella and opened it over him as he approached the fallen teens. He approached Kurosaki-san first as he was the worst off. Deadly wounds littered his body yet he was still conscious. Barely so, but still, that gave Kisuke an ounce of relief among all that guilt.

“…I don’t-wanto…protecte’… ‘gain…” Kisuke heard the teen mutter and he saved it for later. Right now, he had to make sure that at least they wouldn’t die. He couldn’t do anything about Kuchiki Rukia.

* * *

 

“GAAAHHH!” Kisuke was relieved to hear Kurosaki-san was awake. And well enough to scream like that.  He left his untouched tea aside and went to see how the kid was faring.

“Geta-boushi? This is your house?” Kurosaki had asked in realization as soon as Kisuke meandered over. The shopkeeper smiled at him and was already in the middle of offering him breakfast when the teen added in a lower voice, “So you’re the one who saved me.”

‘ _Wrong. I’m the one who almost got you killed, Kurosaki-san._ ’ Kisuke thought, yet he remembered the last words the teen had uttered and a new worry grew in him. “Ara? It sounds as if you didn’t want to be rescued.” No answer. Kurosaki’s face darkened before he abruptly changed the topic.

 “Where’s Ishida?”

And even though the shop manager was positive the teen wasn’t ready, that it was too much, his calculative mind was already goading the teenager into saving Rukia.

Later he’d have to teach Kurosaki-san out of his growing hero-complex. But for now, it’d work. It had to.

 

He inwardly cringed as the child in front of him agonized over being too weak. How his voice broke ever so slightly. But there was no way he was backing out. Kisuke just had to point where and Kurosaki-san would leap into hell’s train just to save Rukia.

“I’ll lead you to Soul Society on one condition. For ten days, you must train under me. Should I find you unprepared by then, the deal’s off.”

The kid rambled on, annoyed, anxious, stirring Kisuke’s own anxiousness and he snapped. He threatened the boy and told him that he would die with his current ability. He was harsh. He rubbed on certain wounds. This wasn’t really a calculated plan. He just didn’t want to see the teen die because of his own recklessness. He failed to notice the presence of a certain cat. He just tried not to show that every word he said meant ‘Don’t die’.

“You can save her, if you wish to save Kuchiki-san from the bottom of your heart.” He wasn’t sure what made him say that. He surely wasn’t the best to prove such sayings.

But at last Kurosaki-san seemed to accept the idea. In fact, in the end he seemed almost grateful for some reason. Kisuke could only wonder why.

* * *

 

Ichigo was a nice boy and everything but...

If he wanted to proceed, Kisuke would need to shuck all possible sentimental attachment to the boy. Because…

Because becoming a Shinigami would not be enough.

Not enough for rescuing Rukia, and certainly not enough for defeating Aizen.

Kisuke prepared the best plan he could come up with to have a greater probability of Kurosaki surviving the training itself and everything he would have to accomplish in his short life. And so it began.

 

It was a three-step process, in which one wrong move would kill him off and with him any chance of ever beating Aizen.

First step, pound some sense into Kurosaki. He responded well to this step. Kisuke believed in him, and the teen acted accordingly. Made Ichigo stop and think and realize that there was no backing out of this.

He either went through it or he’d die.

Second step, kill Kurosaki-san. This was the most dangerous part. One that left Kisuke feeling nervous for all three days it lasted. Kurosaki-san’s scared and pained face kept rounding in Kisuke’s mind as well as the betrayed look he received and that Kisuke knew he deserved. He was pretty sure that the teen wouldn’t become a Hollow. He was too stubborn for that. But yet the doubt remained.

 

On the first night, he assured his team he’d keep watch, even sent Tessai up to sleep some. He walked the sunbaked expanse to Kurosaki’s pit. He was barely conscious. The dirty-blond haired man sat down at the border in silence, just as he had done several times before, in different situations, for different reasons.

“Don’t give up, Kurosaki-san.” He mumbled under his breath. “I said I’d believe in you, so don’t prove me wrong.”

 

The second night, he did the same, walked over to the deep hole and sat down, this time with real worry eating him.

“Fight it, Kurosaki-san. Don’t give up. I’m sorry for putting you through this.” He was surprised. Why had he uttered those words? A beeping noise distracted him. Forty nine hours were up. He stood up and repeated, “I’m sorry.”

 

Seventy hours since the second lesson had begun, Kurosaki-san was dying. There was nothing else to do but hope…hope that the teen would beat death, would overcome his becoming a Hollow and emerge out as a full-fledged Vizard. Kisuke believed in his temporal apprentice, yet he prayed he wouldn’t have to see Benihime slitting said apprentice’s throat to keep them alive.

 

Then, as Kisuke prepared Benihime, trying not to think too much on having to kill his former student before _he_ got eviscerated, smoke began to clear and the creature did not attack.

Stupidly hopeful, Kisuke stayed his hand long enough to see if there was _any_ chance that Kurosaki had survived.

For a tense second, nobody moved. Then the creature’s weapon arm was swiftly shoved into its face, effectively shattering the Hollow mask

Kisuke almost clapped when he saw that act of defiance. It was dramatic, and brash and spoke louder than any word. It was a statement to the world that he would not lose to the Hollow. Kisuke sighed softly to himself as he began to clap anyway. To the teen he might have seemed mocking, but hell if he wasn’t proud of this boy.

 

Step three, experience. Time to teach him a little about what he couldn’t last time. Now he wasn’t going to send him out utterly unprepared. Kisuke didn’t take pity in how the teen looked —haggard, tired, drained— and attacked.

 

Wow, even in sealed form, it was hard to use Benihime for sparring, her bloodlust was hard to curb. Kisuke had to wonder what that said about himself. Though he did wonder what did the new Vizard got from the clashes. Did he sense Benihime’s desire? Or maybe Kisuke’s own ‘I’m glad you’re alive’?

He called Benihime’s name, first time in a long while. The blond male was glad to see something clicking in Kurosaki’s head. Though, he was pretty sure Benihime’s “I’ll kill you” aura soon overrode everything and Kisuke’s small threat sent a feral fear through the teen. The older man was slightly hurt, it’s not like he would really kill him… anymore.

 

In the middle of the battle, the young innocent soul stopped moving. He stood there, unable to hear or feel Kisuke's violent attacks, so he stayed his hands. It was likely that Kurosaki wasn't even focused on this plane.

Ah, it suddenly clicked, his Zanpakuto was calling him. And with a sudden surge of reiatsu Kurosaki called out the name of his own soul. _Zangetsu._ No hilt, no guard, just a straightforward butcher’s knife. It fitted Kurosaki just fine. It screamed Kurosaki Ichigo just as Benihime hid Urahara Kisuke. But each to their own. Right now…

“Sorry, Urahara-san…but I don’t think I can hold back, so you better dodge.” A more confident Kurosaki had said and Kisuke barely had time to react.

_Danger._

“Call out, Benihime!” Kisuke dropped all pretense and weaved Benihime’s shield before the ridiculously strong attack got to him.

This boy meant danger. It had been a long time, since his instincts had sparked in such a way. Subconsciously recognizing someone as _dangerous_.

His precious hat was blown off, though Kisuke could only give thanks that he still was whole. This brat was powerful. He had brute strength but strength nonetheless. He was everything that had been promised by his mere existence. He looked up and was surprised to see an equally surprised teen.

“What is the matter, Kurosaki-san? Surprised I’m still alive?” He joked merrily.

“Eh-no I just…you look way older with that hat on.” Ouch. Kisuke pouted, making the teen instantly scowl at him.

“You’re so mean, Kurosaki-san! The hat is my charming point!”

“No wonder I haven’t seen any women in here.” Kurosaki-san deadpanned with an arched eyebrow and Kisuke was really surprised to note the confidence the teen was exuding. He apparently felt well enough to banter with him. He let himself smile softly, instantly putting the other on guard.

“G-geta-boushi? What are you smiling for?” The boy scowled, but his eyes were so puffy and sunken that it just looked like he was squinting.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe I could pick some lessons from you then.” Kisuke teased, fond smile growing into a cheeky smirk, receiving a squawk of indignation. “You see, I see _you_ with plenty of women. There’s Kuchiki-san, that girl, Inoue was her name? Also there’s-”

“…How do you know Inoue? Don’t tell me, you’re a stalker?” The carrot top mock-scrambled backwards, pointing an accusing finger at him. Kisuke sighed dramatically. He might have been having stalker-ish tendencies (that weren’t meant to be stalker-ish) but he was not going to say that.

“Kurosaki-san, I see you have plenty of energy in reserve. You’re lively.”

“Ah, I guess so. Right now I feel as if I don’t have to be… protected…” And Kurosaki’s animated response was cut short by his snore. The teen had fallen asleep on the spot.

Protected. Again that word.

Did Kurosaki did not want to be protected? Why? Didn’t sound as if he’d appreciate being saved either, which amounted more or less to the same thing. Did the teen _want_ to be the one protecting? Well, it was obvious that was true. But that was also true for most people. But they would also want to be protected in return. So why was Kurosaki-san so avert to the idea? Most likely some sort of personal trauma. Just like how he seemed hung up over Masaki’s…hmm, maybe Masaki had died protecting her son?

 Kisuke returned to the present, gazing at the slumbering teen with fondness. It would be so much like him to think like that. The ex-captain gently scooped up the teen and carried him to a provisional-camping tent, set up not long ago and set him in the single bed inside.

As he was leaving he heard a mumbled, “Rukia I’ll… you wait f’me…” and couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips.

Ah, foolish, hero-complexed boy.

Chapter one end


	2. Chapter 2

“Urahara-san, are you there?”

Kisuke raised his head and fixed his hat at hearing his temporal pupil’s voice and soon enough, the teen had entered the kitchen. “Kurosaki-san, you’re up I see.” He said even as he stifled a yawn —he had been about to doze off.

“Yeah, uh, sorry for falling asleep mid-lesson.”

“No, no the lesson was over already. Don’t fret about that.” The shopkeeper waved his fan lazily, an easy grin on his face. Kurosaki-san looked uncertain but finally nodded. The teen seemed to take notice of his bucket hat and stared at it with such a curious expression that Kisuke just waited for whatever the witty kid would say.

 

“Urahara-san?”

“Yes?” Kisuke replied, placid smile in place.

Ichigo was squinting at the object like it could bite him at any moment. “…How many of those hats do you have?”

“Eh? Why? Do you want one?”

“As if!” Ichigo replied a bit too fast for it not to be insulting. He composed himself to shoot a suspicious gaze at him. “But either you have a stack of them or you’re really good at sewing. Which is it?”

“I need to have a couple around, I take preventive measures seriously!”

“Of course you do.” Ichigo mumbled, sounding amusingly long-suffering. “But man, it surprised me how much shadier and obscure you can become by just wearing some hat.  I can’t feel what you’re thinking.”

The blond sobered up as he tilted his hat down, hiding his eyes. “That’s the whole point.”       

After that short conversation, Kisuke hurried the final preparations and —after getting glared at by a certain Strawberry— he watched Ichigo and his so very loyal friends pass through the world-connecting gate.

 

* * *

(As the group went through the Senkaimon, Ichigo turned around briefly and saw Urahara’s longing gaze, hand poised as if he were going to caress the gate or gently enter. Ichigo was pretty sure he couldn’t be seen, as those grey eyes were far too vulnerable to be directed at anything alive. The teen saved that memory in his mind and erased it for the moment. He had to save Rukia first.)

 

* * *

Kisuke wasn’t anxious. No, of course not. He didn’t pace up and down Karakura town, worrying his lip until it bled, and thinking about the bullheaded Kurosaki boy. He didn’t miss his sleep due to the nagging feeling that he should have trained Kurosaki-san better, nor due to the churning guilt he ended feeling. That would be ridiculous!

“You dickhead! Stop walking around all town! It’s irritating!” Kisuke froze at hearing that voice, clearly not expecting it, during one of his many walks. He felt someone jump down behind him, and the pale blond turned to see another blonde in a red jogging suit, whose mere appearance twisted something inside Kisuke.

“Sarugaki-san?” He managed to ask in a neutral voice and a genial smile. He idly wondered what his ex-lieutenant would think upon not seeing any of his once-characteristic nervousness or meekness around her. “To what do I owe the pleasu-“

Ah, a foot to his face. It had been so long he had already forgotten Hiyori’s infamous kicks. He thanked it wasn’t to the crotch this time; he had lost the habit of wearing the protection. He still clutched his face in pain.

“Don’t ‘Sarugaki-san’ me!” The smaller blonde snarled, copying his words and face perfectly as she landed back on her feet. “I told you I want you to _stop_ angsting over your student! Or if you do, don’t leave your fucking store, you stupid dickhead!”

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry. I’m not ‘angsting’ though.” The shopkeeper lied with a mild smile, doing his best not to stare at the young woman in front of him. She seemed to be doing fine. He was glad. Though he wished she’d be less…aggressive. Kisuke was now clutching his stomach. Any lower would be dangerous!

“You lying sorry excuse of a man! Anyway, the kid is strong. And he has to come back, Shinji wants to recruit him, so he’d better not die! Though if he does die, then better for us we didn’t get a weakling.” Sarugaki Hiyori hashed out, in her rude and offensive and often awkward way of reassuring someone. Kisuke could just blink at her in surprise, before he could hide it and bowed his head in thanks.

“He’s not a weakling.” He said instead, smile again plastered on his face. Hiyori huffed at him with irritation, but before he could defend the orangehead further —or risk getting kicked again— he watched the lanky form of a ghostly black cat landing beside them. Yoruichi gave a sidelong glance at the other female before directing her attention to him with a smirk (she was a faux in her cat form, she shouldn’t be allowed to smirk like that!).

“They’re coming back, Kisuke.”

The sand blond man didn’t pause to consider nor say goodbye; he turned around and disappeared, already dashing to find Tessai and pinpoint where the teens would fall. He missed entirely Yoruichi’s strange bark of laughter before disappearing and Hiyori’s raised eyebrows.

 

 

* * *

“Welcome back, everyone~!” Kisuke had greeted lightly (one flying-carpet-maneuver later), his utter relief of seeing them again subdued by the guilt and fear that still plagued him. They knew about him now. He wasn’t the perverted good-for-nothing shopkeeper anymore. Kisuke was ready for harsh comments, accusations, even death threats but he certainly didn’t expect…

“Oh, Urahara…-san.” Kurosaki-san’s openness, greeting him as always, even if a bit wary. That certainly hurt. He turned his face to a side, wanting to see the other’s expression.

“Welcome home, Kurosaki-san.” Kisuke welcomed the shinigami teen in a softer, warmer tone before he got down to business.

“You’ve all heard, right? About me.” He addressed all the teens yet it was Ichigo who answered for them.

“Yeah.” Kisuke closed his eyes, then raising his hand to his favorite hat, he gripped it hard. The man took off his hat as he turned around and _apologized._

 _“_ I’m truly sorry.” He said as he bowed down to them, but what he said was especially directed at the Kurosaki son. On his knees, head uncovered and bowed and voice raspy with guilt, the blond man hadn’t been in such a vulnerable position in a long while. But he didn’t mind. It was the least he could do.  He didn’t even expect to be forgiven, yet once again…

“Stop it. It doesn’t matter anymore. Not like I’m angry anyway.” Kurosaki-san surprised him again. How could he say this? Kisuke kept his head bowed, not believing that the teen was really saying the truth. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Kisuke stiffened even further, yet the teen forged on, relentless. “Wherever your heart was, you really helped us and made us stronger. We appreciate that.” Kisuke closed his eyes, not quite believing the sheer sincerity in the other’s voice.

“So, well, don’t apologize.” Kurosaki-san concluded, mildly.

“Yes.” Kisuke said, voice just as strained as before, not quite rising from his bow yet. But before he could gather himself and tuck away his strong guilt for later, Kurosaki-san kneeled beside him.

“But,” the teen had started, trying to meet his eyes. “Can I just ask you one thing?

“Is the reason you didn’t tell me the truth was that you thought I’d panic and run away?”

Such a foolishly naïve thing to say. Yet, it was true. Not panicking and running away from the whole plan of saving Rukia; No, he was afraid that Kurosaki-san would abhor him and run away from _him._

And that was still a small part of the whole reason.

 

“Bingo!” The ex-captain exclaimed instead, finally lifting his head in a cheerful manner. He had opened his fan, giving off a big smile, just to be elbowed in the face by Kurosaki-san.

“That pisses me off the most!” Kurosaki-san fumed and Kisuke inwardly fretted. ‘ _Is he pissed because of what I did? Or because he thinks I lied? Or because he thinks I don’t trust him?’_

 _“_ I can’t believe I was elbowed!” The pale blond man muttered to himself, but before he could continue with his theatrics, Kurosaki spoke again.

“Also…make sure you apologize to Rukia.”

Kisuke didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

“Although I’m pretty sure she’ll say the same as us, “ Was he reassuring him? Ah, this boy is seriously…

“Yes.” Kisuke meekly agreed. And that was that.

 

The Quincy boy was the first to leave, quickly followed by Inoue and Sado.

“Kurosaki-san, you’ll get off at your house, yes?” Kisuke politely inquired to the only other occupant of his floating carpet —Yoruichi and Tessai notwithstanding.

“Ah, yes-No, I think I’ll be getting off here, see you, Urahara-san!”

“Wha-eh?” Kisuke didn’t have any time to reply as he saw the boy jump down from his carpet barely seconds after speaking. “Kurosaki-san!” He paused, grey eyes turning serious. This was the riverbank where Masaki had been killed. But before Kisuke could think more on the subject, he heard the gruff feline voice of Yoruichi.

“Who would have thought I’d live to see this day.” She began in a low mumble. Kisuke looked at her briefly, suspicious of the way she smirked. “A day for miracles. Kisuke apologized, and even bowed. Isn’t that an auspicious sign?

 “You are right, Yoruichi-dono, this is certainly a ‘once in a blue moon’ event as they call it. Fortunately, I asked Ururu to take photos as commemoration.” Tessai joined in, voice as stern as serious as ever, even as a corner of his lips betrayed his amusement.

“What-Hey you guys!?” Kisuke turned to look at them, dismayed, even as the Shihoin Princess spoke. “Oho? Nice one, Tessai. Send me copies.”

 

* * *

Everything settled for the meantime, Kisuke knew that the Shinigami would not make much of a fuss anymore and Aizen would need (and in turn they would have) time to continue building his army and would not attempt anything in the nearby future.

What he didn’t account for was the sudden maelstrom of emotion that swept through town like nobody’s business. That reiatsu could only belong to one person.

The pale blond was startled to notice that while he could sense his reiatsu just perfectly, it wasn’t running as strong as always. Actually, on one particular day, it began dwindling to a wisp of reiatsu —since when was Kurosaki’s omnipresent, unrestrained reiatsu merely a _wisp_ at the back of his senses?

He hurried outside, already knowing where he was heading. And this time, out of precaution he muted his own reiatsu. He peeked through the broken fence at the teen sitting on the front porch, just a couple years older than the time before.

 

He was so young, Kisuke suddenly thought. Not even an adult by human terms. Hysterical sobs wracked Kurosaki’s body. His face betraying the fear he tried to suppress with a fist to his mouth, and sometimes he could even see anger in there. His sobs were loud despite that, loud and heartfelt but his eyes remained oddly dry. Of course that he didn’t cry, Kisuke was getting used to that. He was just —apparently— letting out all of his pent up emotions of his crazy visit to Seireitei.

At last, a dulled Ichigo made his slow way home and Kisuke didn’t stop to think. He used shunpo to casually place himself in Ichigo’s predictable path and waited for them to casually meet.

Kisuke surveyed the path of his reiatsu and leaned back to act as if he had been moon-gazing.

 

Funny, there was no moon tonight.

 

Ah well, he already had his reputation of being completely crazy. He sighed just as a single set of footsteps resounded in the night silence. The boy was still not on sight but his reiatsu although controlled, still ran strongly. Strong enough to tell Kisuke that the teen was still loaded with emotions. Kurosaki-san turned a last corner and his characteristic orange head appeared almost like a shining beacon. At the same time the pale blond caught sight of the teen the latter seemed to do the same with a start. The flowing reiatsu retreated immediately and was trimmed down to a low murmur. Kisuke almost frowned.

“Urahara…-san?” Kurosaki’s voice was carried through the distance they were at. Guarded, unpleasantly surprised.

“Ara? Kurosaki-san, what a surprise!” Kisuke greeted cheerfully, though he was only answered by a grunt and a nod. The greetings over, the teen turned on his heels without a word. Kisuke’s smile dropped for a moment. “Ehh? You can’t possibly just turn around like that, Kurosaki-san!” He mock pouted.

“Watch me.” The reply was aggravated by the teen’s hoarse voice. Kisuke mentally grimaced at hearing that.

 “Mou, you…you really have no manners, Kurosaki-san.”

“Leave me alone, won’t you?” The carrot top teen said, but he made no other move to leave.  Seemingly not wanting to be alone, yet reluctant to be with Kisuke.

“Ahh, but we just met. Would it bother you greatly to share a cup of tea with me?” Now this made the Kurosaki boy pause. And shoot him a weird look.

“Why?” He said, doubt lacing his words and expression. Kisuke —really hoping this wasn’t making him look too shady— smiled and waved a hand around.

“Well. Why not? I’m not doing anything; neither are you so…”

“Alright. But I’m not taking any candy from you.” Kurosaki-san deadpanned, the beginnings of amusement showing on his face. Kisuke blinked, before he snorted reflexively.

“I’m glad to see you do have some common sense.”

“It’s not hard. Far easier than trying not to get killed.” Kurosaki replied, as any emotion fled from his face.

Kisuke did grimace at that comment and tried to re-route the conversation somewhere less drab. “I guess you’re right, but does that mean you don’t trust me?”

Kurosaki-san deadpanned at him. “Give me a single reason why should I?” But before Kisuke could do more than think an appropriate answer, he continued, “I mean, how can I be assured that Ururu-chan and the Jinta-brat aren’t slaves to some shabby-looking man?”

Now, this was a statement without heat behind it, and the blond answered accordingly, but it left a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach. It didn’t matter what his goal was, he had harmed this teen. In truth, Kisuke had given no reasons for Kurosaki-san to trust him. Yet here they were, walking side by side, the orange-haired teen clearly trusted him. Maybe he needed no reasons to do so. Kisuke was surprised to feel a comforting warmth when he realized this.

(It almost managed to hide the guilt.)

 

* * *

 

The shopkeeper invited the teen inside as a formality, making some small talk as they headed to the shop’s kitchen. All necessary equipment for making tea was already out, so Kisuke set out to prepare it.

“So, Kurosaki-san, were you also out on a nightly stroll?” He called over his shoulder. He was answered with only a grunt of agreement, so Kisuke had to add, “Doing anything shady? Don’t tell me you were skulking to a girl’s house!”

“What! Fuck no! Don’t you dare pick up Goat-face’s idiocy!” Kurosaki-san barked at him, one hand slamming down on the counter, the other pointing accusingly at him; but when Kisuke turned around —tray with the tea in his hands— he was amused to see the teen’s cherry red face.

“Don’t worry; your criminal activity is of no concern to me.” He said to the teen’s mortification. “Do sit down, tea’s ready.” Kisuke set the tray down on the kitchen table and started pouring for his guest, “So, if not a girl, what _were_ you doing, if I may ask?”

“Just…thinking.”

“Worried about something, Kurosaki-san?” The shopkeeper inquired, eyes looking at the teenager from over his cup.

There was a bark of humorless laughter as the teen mused his hair. “What’s not to worry? I- “ His hands clenched into fists. Kisuke sighed into his tea before setting it down.

“Relax, Kurosaki-san. Drink your tea; it’s getting cold.”

“Sorry, I’m not in a mood for tea-“ The teen said abashedly, letting his hands fall to the table, cupping his tea.

“Minors shouldn’t drink.” The sand blond started mildly, not looking at him. The teen squinted at him, dubiously.

“What the-? I know that, I wasn’t say-“

“ _But_ I think a cup wouldn’t harm you.” Kisuke once again interrupted the teen.

“What the hell? You crazy?” The teen belatedly replied in bewilderment.

“Most likely.” The blond said with another sigh, before lifting his eyes to a young face. “But I’ve found that tea with a hint of alcohol is best for weary nights.”

 

Ichigo didn’t say a word for a long while and the shopkeeper didn’t insist. He sat back instead and sipped at his drink, assessing the other. Kurosaki-san had deep-set bags under his eyes, which stood out even more as he scowled with uncertainty. The teen looked at his tea, hands slowly starting to tremble. When he almost tipped his drink over, he thrust his hands under the table and shot Kisuke a slightly alarmed face. Kisuke did a good rendition of clueless.

“Have you decided yet Kurosaki-san? I don’t wish to force you, if you’d like, do forget my offer.” He said, as he set his own drink aside. He made as if to stand up. “Actually, having something to eat may help-“

“No it’s-“ Kurosaki-san started with a croaky voice, he then paused slightly nibbling on his lower lip before seemingly giving up. He licked his lips, nervous and haltingly added, “Actually, I think I’ll take up your offer. If you don’t mind. Of the alcohol that is.”

“Alright, then, I’ll be right-“ Kisuke was about to leave when he realized his mistake. Not batting an eye he corrected himself. “Actually, Kurosaki-san would you like to come with me? It would be better if you’d tell me which one draws your attention.”

Kisuke gave himself a pat on the back as he saw the tension slip away as quick as it had come from the teen’s features.

“Lead on, Geta-boushi.”

 

* * *

 

They mainly talked about their situation in general. Kisuke didn’t once mention to Kurosaki that he had been seen, nor the teen tried to ask what had he been doing out. They made small, trivial talk, and that —aided by the alcohol— successfully managed to relax the Strawberry. Even Kisuke had managed to get a laugh upon Kurosaki’s first experience with alcohol (and the ensuing coughing fit). But then, the drowsy teen got serious.

“Y’know…I’m still surprised.” Kurosaki-san had semi-slurred, tiredness more evident by the minute. Kisuke refilled the teen’s cup with only tea.

“At what, Kurosaki-san?”

“Just being here…you know? Breathing, talking… _living_.”

“Well of course you’re living-“ The blond shinigami began saying, bewildered. But Kurosaki’s sardonic smile cut him short.

 

“I think I got lucky, back at Soul Society…I…I shouldn’t have survived that, should I?”

“What do you- of course you should have survived your venture. I personally trained you-“ Kisuke’s bafflement only kept growing, as well as his apprehension.

“I beat people who had had _centuries_ of training, Urahara…-san. I trained for ten days. I’ve barely been a shinigami for longer than a month. Tell me where’s the logic in that.”

Kisuke was honestly lost. What would be an appropriate thing to say?

“I…I…” And now Kurosaki-san’s hands were trembling again and a ghost of fear crossed his face. “…There were many moments where…by all logic I should be dead. And that’s…” Brown eyes searched for his own, and Kisuke locked his own steady gaze on the other, trying to reassure him. “Why is life so fickle? Who- why does someone get to live while others don’t? Is there some divinity that measures if we’re fit to live or something? ‘Cause I damn well don’t-“

“Kurosaki-san.”

“-And Aizen…he said he was controlling me-us I mean, from the very beginning. How fucked up is that? And what if it’s true? What can I do when my choices are all part of that asshole’s plan? I can’t…I couldn’t stop him —I couldn’t’ _touch_ him, Urahara-san. Bastard stopped me with a single fucking finger.  That’s all it took- I could have died at the mere whim of that bastard. I just-“

“Kurosaki-kun.” Kisuke finally cut his rambling sternly. His collected posture slowly calming the teen down, even if just a little. “Calm down. It does no one any favor to dwell in the ‘what-if’s or the ‘could-have’s, so you shouldn’t either. You are here, Kurosaki-san, you’re speaking to me right now. Focus on that.  Aizen is nowhere near you right now. And he isn’t omnipotent nor anything of the sort. He can’t control your choices, he can just pretend he does. You’re alive because you’re strong as well as lucky. Not because some flimsy shinigami wanted you to.

“I’ve trained you for a short time but I know that you learn quickly. That you’re stubborn to a fault. Besides, you would not die, simply because death is not part of your plans.” Kisuke half-joked, a slight smile quirking the corner of his lips. The teen’s face relaxed minutely.

“I wish I could believe that last one.” But despite his words, there was a certain relief stating that at least some part of him _did_ believe that. But before the ex-captain could start to relax again, the teen’s tense shoulders sagged with much more than relief. “I’m real glad no one died. That I didn’t kill anyone…”

 “…Kurosaki-san, you- you do know you’re not a killer, right?” Kisuke felt compelled to say, noticing the fervent gratitude at Kurosaki’s last comment.

For some strange reason, far too mature eyes stared at the shopkeeper, before they softened and a warm not-smile crossed the teen’s face.

“Thanks for saying it out loud though…sometimes…I wonder…” And with a dull thud, the teen’s head dropped down to the table as soft snores replaced his mumbling.

“Such a lightweight.” Kisuke muttered fondly as he reached for the other’s empty cup. But instantly his smile vanished as he stared at the teen’s tired face forlornly. The poor kid had endured too much killer intent on his own. The blond was sure that this teen had been the one to face all manslayers straight in the eye. Just so a shinigami he had happened to meet didn’t die.

And for some reason, Kurosaki-san was worried he’d kill anyone. Kisuke feared that his mind had been more than a little affected by the murderous intent of ninety percent of Seireitei. Fools, the lot of them. Himself most likely included.

 

With a tired sigh, the exiled shinigami gently lifted the dozing teen up, carrying him like a little kid. Kisuke huffed in amusement when Kurosaki-san immediately scowled in his sleep at the sudden move. The man decided to let the teen sleep in his own futon — he didn’t currently have any other already set out after all — and so he headed to his room in quiet footsteps.

The trek was moderately long (he wanted his room far away from possible intruders thank you very much) and on the way, Kisuke hummed lightly; he paused, however, when a hand suddenly entangled itself on his coat at shoulder height. At the same time Kurosaki-san nuzzled his opposite shoulder, burying his head in the nape connecting Kisuke’s neck and shoulder. The blond blinked at the curiously childish acts of the teen, yet storm grey eyes warmed significantly before the shop owner continued humming with each step.

 

He would never have thought Kurosaki-san to be the clingy type. Nor the type of never letting go…No, on second thought Kurosaki Ichigo _never_ let go of his ideals—he was bullheaded like that. Though by the way he fisted his precious cloak, it didn’t seem like he was going to let _that_ go either. And so, the legendary ex-captain of the Twelve and the Onmitsukidou, Urahara Kisuke, had to wrestle for ten silent minutes to separate himself from the fifteen-year-old currently snoozing away in his futon (Yoruichi would have a blast if she heard about it). The kid even had the gall to _appear_ as if he were only grabbing on lightly even though he had an iron grip on it!

But then, all good humor faded from the blond’s face as the hand on his cloak tightened even further and Kurosaki-san’s face scrunched up in fear and as a small, almost silent whimper escaped his lips. “Ru…kia don’…die…” The teen whispered and Kisuke couldn’t do anything else than rub soothing circles on the stressed teen’s back as he mumbled.

“It’s alright, Kurosaki-san. It’s alright. I’m sorry…I’m so sorry Kurosaki-san.” The man shut up when he saw the carrot top’s face morph into characteristic annoyance before softening once again.

“No…’pology…b’tard” The orangehead mumbled, face again smooth in relaxation. Kisuke could only shake his head in exasperation as he finally managed to untangle his fist. Kisuke stared for a moment longer at the teen, not sure if to be surprised that even half-drunk and asleep Kurosaki-san was still admonishing Kisuke for blaming himself. He smiled. It was so easy to have this teen grow on him that it almost wasn’t funny.

(That night he couldn’t sleep.)

 

* * *

 

“Whathe-where am-!?” Came followed by a series of crashes, indicating that their guest was finally awake. Kisuke only sighed as he blinked away the last traces of drowsiness from his eyes. He could already hear Tessai going out to help the teen so he relaxed back on his seat and continued pretending to eat his breakfast.

So after Kurosaki-san awkwardly thanked him, the teen headed home with —to Kisuke’s relief— a pretty relaxed scowl.

Kisuke sipped at his cup with a smile.

 Yes, he was fond of the teen.

 

(And yet, he won’t tell him of his fate. Was it because he was being kind, or a coward?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're a minor, be sensible and don't drink alcohol. Even if a nice, perverted shopkeeper offers it to you.  
> Lmao I'm kidding, just don't do it.
> 
> Don't forget to drop a comment!


	3. Chapter 3

Kisuke had realized a long time ago that the orange-haired Kurosaki boy always cried when he was on his own. He left his house whenever he wasn’t feeling alright and just walked until he was alone to grieve.  It had kept up like that since Masaki’s death and most likely no one knew—no one beside Kisuke that is.

The man wondered whether his friends or family ever questioned themselves why he never seemed to grieve.

Kisuke thought that knowing that only made seeing the distressed, lonely teen all the more sad. The pale blond man wanted to do something about it. But he had no idea what he could do. Genius manipulator he may be, comforting people wasn’t exactly something at which he excelled.

Heck, all he could do for the Vizards was save them from execution, prevent them from losing themselves to their Hollows and leaving them alone. Granted, the Vizards were all grown adults (which was arguable on the best of days) and they were still rightfully mad at him, but still Kisuke couldn’t say he had helped them emotionally.

Back on track, what _could_ he do for the teen? Leaving a treat or beverage would just be warily —and rightfully— ignored; a letter would just be creepy and would probably only drive the teen away from his only private spot.

Kisuke sighed as he felt Kurosaki’s signature dropping. He abjectly followed the dulled reiatsu once again, even though he knew there was nothing he could do.

The teen was subdued and silent for the whole duration of that visit to nowhere. Kisuke too kept his silence, unable to do anything more than just stay there.

Stay and mentally beg that tired face of his for an answer as to what was wrong, how could he help?

No answer was given, but in the end, Kurosaki sighed and just shrugged his grief off. Like he had always done.

Kisuke was no longer there when the teen left that place. But he was not in the shoten yet.

He had decided to do the same thing as last time. He put himself in Kurosaki’s path to force a casual encounter.

It was the only thing he could do.

As the boy’s reiatsu approached, Kisuke had a (rare) moment of self-doubt.

Because, certainly, him being out here when Kurosaki was returning from one of his escapades was bound to be suspicious.

Unless, Kurosaki was too busy being weighed down by his grief to try and form a pattern out of this. He concluded even as a hesitant, feeble voice said his name.

 “Urahara-san?... Urahara-san are you…?” He heard the voice falter and instead came a muttered, “Of course he won’t be here again you idiot. I really suck at reading reiatsu…”

Kisuke shrugged all reservations off and stepped up, quickly locating the wandering teen. “Kurosaki-san! What a surprise!” He was honestly quite amused to see the young teen start and redden. They talked about how they had been (mostly the shopkeeper), Kurosaki seemingly wanting to say something but unable to. Kisuke easily sensed the other’s nervousness but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he said, “Kurosaki-san, would I bother you offering you a cup of warm tea?” Oddly, the teen’s scowl eased the smallest bit.

“Sure, why not?”

 

 

* * *

 

So Kisuke prepared the tea, noticing how the teen was just the smallest bit more talkative. He told Kisuke about how everything seemed to return to normal. How his idiot of a father was as idiotic as usual (here the ex-captain suppressed a sigh) and ended up complaining about the Hollows in town.

“I thought they had appointed someone else already…No, they did appoint someone, only that he’s way too weak. Even _I_ can tell that— and I suck horribly at reading reiatsu. Hell, he always gets mad at me when I do the job —he’s too damn slow— and ignored my substitute shinigami badge.”

Kisuke’s motions slowed to a stop, barely having poured half a cup. “Substitute shinigami badge? Who gave it to you?”

Noticing something was off, a dry smile curved Kurosaki’s lips. “Ukitake-san.”

An edge of irritation slipped through his tight control. Curse that man and his ever polite smiles. Kisuke allowed the thought of that he should have sent the sickly man to the Maggot’s Nest when he was in charge. Not that the old geezer would have allowed that anyway…

“…Urahara-san?”

“Ah- yes?” The man snapped back into attention, his mind already nagging to leave the idea of vengeance alone. He could do a better —and more productive— job instead, by figuring out exactly what that supposed badge actually did. There had not been a substitute Shinigami in centuries, there should not be any sort of badge or special privileges from their one incident. Actually, he should polish up his knowledge since he had only heard about him in passing.

“Everything alright?” Kurosaki asked, shoulders bowed as if he wanted to shrink in on himself. Kisuke immediately relaxed his whole body, goofy grin in place as he opened his trustworthy fan to add to the effect.

“Yes, yes, but do you think you could bring that badge over sometime? I’d like to see it.”

“Actually, I always carry it. Here.” Ichigo muttered, scrambling to unlatch the badge from where he kept it tied to his belt. He almost dropped it twice before the object was all but shoved in his face. Kisuke gingerly took it, curving his fingers around the small wooden badge. He locked eyes with the teen.

“Do you mind lending it to me for a couple days?” Kurosaki jumped slightly when their eyes met, but when ash-colored eyes returned to their easy going state, the teen nodded without a word.

That subject over for now, Kisuke decided it would be a good idea to lighten the mood a bit. With an amused smile, the shopkeeper inquired if Ichigo had already achieved bankai.

Ichigo squinted at him. “As if you wouldn’t know. The weird mannequin was an invention of yours, wasn’t it?”

Kisuke blinked at this open accusation, completely off guard. “Well, yes. Yes, it was. I created it for myself though.”

Kurosaki merely hummed in acknowledgement, yet didn’t pry. Not this time. (And as luck had it, Kisuke didn’t notice how the teen’s eyes darted from his face to his ever-present cloak with a quicksilver smile and the even quicker thought of ‘ _Cute bastard’)_. Instead they talked more about his bankai and Kisuke ended up requesting Kurosaki to show him his bankai at a later date.

Unsurprisingly shortly after, chocolate eyes closed, as their owner finally succumbed to the weight of sleep. Once again, Kisuke carried him to bed, this time preparing a change of clothes before gently waking him up, (Kisuke would know how it felt to sleep with jeans). 

He barely had the time to turn around before the Vizard started stripping. Rolling his eyes, he patiently waited for the drowsy teen to finish, before turning around — to see if he needed anything else— to find the teen fast asleep once again. The pants were thankfully okay, but the blond chuckled fondly before helping the teen with his half-worn shirt. He really must have been sleepy.

He carefully tucked him in, making sure the teen would be as comfortable as possible before leaving.

He knows the teen was asleep and probably dreaming about something else, but when he mumbles, “thank you,” Kisuke smiles.

 

 

* * *

 

In yet another sleepless night, Kisuke fiddled with the Shinigami badge, still mulling what to do with it. He twirled it in his fingers as the voices continued attacking him. ‘ _Hypocrite.’_ They called him. _‘Coward.’_ They proclaimed.

They weren’t wrong.

(And still it didn’t stop him.)

But, maybe. Maybe he could at least help the kid survive. Maybe… maybe there was a way to not kill him when Aizen came to call.

Maybe it was just one big delusion and just so Kisuke would feel marginally better with himself but he’d do whatever in his power to help the boy.

(Until the predicted date of his slaughter.)

 

 

 

* * *

 

When Kurosaki entered the kitchen the next morning, yawning loudly Kisuke popped the question.

“Would you care to learn to read reiatsu?”

Kurosaki’s jaw snapped shut with an audible crack.

 

 

* * *

 

“Ku-ro-sa-ki-saaan!” The blond scientist chimed a call at the jogging teen’s direction. The boy immediately headed his way, red-faced and puffing.

Kisuke’s watch had just marked four hours so it was time to get on with the next step of the training. Though given the expression on his apprentice’s face, it wouldn’t be until he was chewed off a while.

After having the boy drain his reiatsu as much as possible in four hours with his super-heavy leg weights —that constantly drained reiatsu at a monstrous rate (He had had them tucked away in the defective-items box due to the sheer amount it drained but then Kurosaki had appeared, enough said)— Kisuke made the teen sit down and meditate.

“Okay, time to test. Close your eyes, relax and calm down. Remember how to go into your inner world? Picture the feeling…”

The orangehead did as told; scrunching his brow together, feeling himself… _expanding_ if that made sense. Then the shopkeeper told him to see what was around him with that extra sense. The teen shot him a what-the-fuck-are-you-saying look but readily tried, feeling Zangetsu touching his hand and he went from there. Though as soon as he wanted to feel —see, sense, whichever— something else, everything went blurry and muddled up and Ichigo was lost in there.

Kisuke heard the recount and shook his head in amusement. “Should have expected that. Alright then, Kurosaki-san, before that you’ll be learning how to….” But just as those words left his mouth, the blond fell silent as he stared at Kurosaki. When the other snapped a question, he merely smiled and asked, “By the way, Kurosaki-san, have you been restraining your reiatsu lately?”  This made Ichigo flush.

“Just a bit. Ishida just tossed me some clues so I’m still trying …” Ichigo mumbled, embarrassed at having been caught.

Kisuke chuckled good naturedly.

“Well, then that simplifies things. I’ll just help you completely restrain it, then.”

.

 

* * *

 

 “Why am I doing all this again?”

“Because you have too much reiatsu, Kurosaki-san. You’ll eventually get used to it, but it will be easier for you to detect other reiatsu when yours isn’t in the way.” Kisuke answered with a smile as Ichigo struggled with the reiatsu orb —courtesy of Kuukaku and Yoruichi. At least he hadn’t made it explode yet.

“I feel insulted.” He managed to growl out, sweat dripping down his focused face. In his distraction, the wobbly sphere of reiatsu around him expanded and almost knocked into Kisuke before Ichigo reigned it in again with a loud growl.

“What makes you say that?” Kisuke said with a laugh.

Ichigo shoots him a glare.

 

 

Now that they actually had time, Kisuke took his sweet time to teach Kurosaki the subtle art of reiatsu reading.

The boy came almost every day, and every day he left with a finer control over his reiatsu. When he finally could form the perfect sphere without making it explode, it had barely been a week.

Kisuke smiled when the boy complained about taking so long.

 

 

The day Kisuke instructed the boy to sit down, cross his legs and take a deep breath, Kurosaki had been incredibly happy.

Kisuke drew closer to place his hands on the teen’s shoulders to give him the instructions. “Suppress your reiatsu, like you have done before. Perfect, now don’t think about it. Do it unconsciously…Remember what I told you.” Kisuke’s voice dropped to a low murmur to avoid any distractions and when he felt Ichigo was ready, the shopkeeper let his own reiatsu slip out of his tight rein. At this close range, physically in contact as well, it shouldn’t be as tough for the other to detect his reiatsu. All this exercise was meant for Ichigo to recognize what a reiatsu signature was like.

Kisuke was behind the teen, but he could almost picture the frown of concentration on him, and he leant in closer to mumble, “Relax, Kurosaki-san. You’ll do better if you just relax…”

But the one that ended up getting distracted was the silver-eyed male as he caught sight of a very _very_ red ear. The man blinked at it, wondering if maybe he was seeing wrong, but the ear just kept on turning redder.  Kisuke wondered with amusement if the teen was trying too hard; for his ears to be this red his face must…

Huh.

Why was he-?

“Is that Yoruichi?” The teen voiced out in a whisper and sure enough, the quickly approaching signal belonged to her. Kisuke separated himself from the teen to watch his friend jumping down the expanse from the trapdoor and the basement floor in her cat form.

“Heya Ichigo, Kisuke.” The cat said and the shopkeeper nodded at her. He had asked her if she’d be interested in training the youth, so he had been expecting her. Yoruichi sat down and tilted her head in true cat fashion. “Ichigo?”

The pale-skinned man turned his head to see the silent other as he walked away, hands pressed against his face.

“Sorry, headache. Give me a moment…”

Oh, so that had been it.

“Sorry, Kurosaki-kun. Would you like to call off training today?” The shopkeeper offered, already giving his friend a glance of apology.

“Nah. It’s fine.“ The teen cleared his throat and jogged to join them pointedly ignoring Kisuke’s inquisitive stare.

“So what are you doing here, Yoruichi-san?” Kurosaki inquired, staring down at the catwoman.

“Came here to help you train!” The cat cackled merrily before transforming before their very eyes. Not expecting it, the teen fumbled with his words as his cherry red face turned away from her naked figure. Kisuke sighed as he tossed Yoruichi’s clothes to her over his shoulder.

Once dressed, Yoruichi told Ichigo to get his zanpakuto. The teen did so amidst embarrassed curses, pointing an accusing finger at the woman.

“Well, jokes aside, I’m gonna teach you to fight in your full speed.” Yoruichi said, arms crossed over her chest.  “Enter bankai quick, boy!”

“I already know how to fight in my bankai, you know? I think it’s more urgent that I learn how to-“ Kurosaki started, an edge of arrogance showing in his voice as well as a sullen tone underlining it; even as black reiatsu enveloped the teen to burst with a transformed teen inside.

 “Oho? Quite the revealing outfit, Kurosaki-kun!” Kisuke commented offhandedly, trying to distract the teen —beside him, Yoruichi added her own agreement (and let’s face it, it was fun riling up the other). Kurosaki snapped at the both of them, unconsciously falling into a fighting stance.

“Show me how fast you are, Ichigo.” Yoruichi requested, golden eyes shining in seriousness. But when the carrot head was about to move, she raised her hand to stop him. “But here’s the trick. Leave your zanpakuto here, you’re not gonna use it.”

“What? Then why-?”

“I want your bankai speed. Follow me, we’re going hand-to-hand. Ever took martial arts?” Yoruichi asked as she guided the teen away from Zangetsu and Kisuke. The blond shopkeeper watched them leave with no little amusement, before he turned to make sure there was already a bed set down here. Kurosaki wouldn’t be leaving unscathed.

 

* * *

 

Isshin approached him one of those nights in which he couldn’t sleep.

He didn’t try to pretend he’s out for an errand or to drink– he just walked directly to the Shoten until he found Kisuke sitting by an open door.

“We should talk.”

Kisuke takes up the teapot by his side and pours himself a cup. “Good night to you too, Shiba-san.”

He didn't offer him a seat, nor a cup. Isshin stood there awkwardly for a moment before crossing his arms and simply continuing.

“Even though the invasion’s over, you’re still training Ichigo, aren’t you? And in things other than powering up.”

“Yes, has Kurosaki-san said anything to you?”

“No, he- I-…" Isshin rubbed the back of his head, before simply continuing. "Anyway. I just wanted to thank you.”

Kisuke actually laughed, loud and bitter and so sad it was almost a sob. He couldn’t help it. He found his control slipping more frequently each sleepless night. “What for? For fattening up the pig? You don’t really care for that kid, never really have.”

Isshin was silent for a moment, but he didn’t try to disprove Kisuke’s words. “Maybe I should have.” He whispered at last, voice unlike anything Kisuke’s ever heard. “But it’s too late now. Whatever I try, it will just seem fake. But… you care for him. I don’t know what fucking bug bit you, but you _do_ care about him.”

“Shiba-san, you have approximately two seconds to get off my property.”

“He won’t die, you know.” The former captain of the Tenth said in too light of a tone.

Silence.

“ _What?”_

Isshin noticed, nodding to himself as if confirming something. Kisuke was too riled up to notice. “I never clarified because it didn’t seem like it would matter to you but. He will lose all of his spiritual powers, he will lose his zanpakuto, his everything. But if he doesn’t give up, he will survive it.”

“If you call an empty shell a living being then sure.” Kisuke replied, scared of believing, of trusting. “You really expect him to want to live after all the things we’ve put him through? It would have been kinder to let him die.”

Isshin shrugged, slowly. “He’ll have that choice as well. After defeating Aizen, he’ll be free from any meddling. He can do whatever he likes.”

“Another way to say that once his job is done, you don’t care what happens to him." Kisuke said, not a once of forgiveness in his eyes the color of steel. "Sometimes I wish Masaki were still alive to call you on your stupidity.”

“I just wanted to let you know of the possibility of his survival, if you did care for him.”

“What does it change?”

“Maybe nothing.” Isshin said, laconic. “But maybe you’ll be able to give him the peace he deserves.”

If there ever had been a drop of understanding, of justification, it was all gone. Lost forever. Shiba Isshin had finally poured the last drop himself. “Get the fuck out of my property.”

“Kisuke-“

“Once the debacle with Aizen is through, I won’t speak to you ever again. How dare you try to dump all of your responsibilities on me? You should’ve protected him, led him. _He was your son._ ”

Isshin decided to be prudent and just disappeared.

He hated himself just a tad more for the little spark of hope in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter's shorter? Eh, school's busy but this wanted to be posted so here.  
> Kisuke's guilty of many things but even he has lines he does not cross.  
> Don't forget to drop a comment!


	4. Chapter 4

Kisuke dangled from his perch atop a fake boulder as he watched the Kurosaki boy give his everything to try and match Yoruichi, having crossed the bridge to exhaustion hours ago.

He wondered sometimes what made the boy go beyond his own limits each and every time.

(it’s not like Kisuke would understand anyway.)

 

Kisuke meant every word he had said to Isshin, every accusation–and every promise he had done to himself. But he was still surprised when the boy began to frequent his shop more and more often, even on his off days, just wanting to talk, to have a cup of tea.

He began spending the nights.

Kisuke hated how Isshin refused to be there for his son, but that did not mean it suddenly qualified Kisuke to do that job, but when the ghost of a nightmare flits through his face, Kisuke doesn’t have the heart to say no.

 

So he smiled and waved and flourished his way into an invitation that Ichigo always took, even though it clearly embarrassed him. Kisuke would lend him a change of clothes the first couple nights, before Ichigo began bringing his own. He would prepare him tea and they would talk about nothing at all until the teen dozed off.

Sometimes he was too tired and Kisuke had to carry him to bed, some others he would just walk half-asleep to bed.

But every time the teen left the bubble would burst and the room would be plunged into coldness.

What was he doing?

Kisuke would hold himself, cold, shivering.

He was the one preparing him for his slaughter, he didn’t have the right to soothe away his fears. To promise him a better day to come.

 

Yoruichi had taken to sit with him at the crack of dawn, those sleepless nights in which Kisuke couldn’t think straight. They don’t talk, but the company is appreciated.

She doesn’t judge him; she has never done so.

Kisuke sometimes wishes she would.

 

 

If Ichigo noticed the growing rings under his eyes, he said nothing. Instead, the shopkeeper would smile wickedly before calling on Benihime’s name to start the fight.

Ichigo looked disgruntled as he had to dodge that initial burst of energy, but he wasted no time in hurtling forward, almost parallel to Benihime’s crimson attack. Kisuke had to bring her up to block Zangetsu’s black blade. He then pushed the teen back, making him lose footing as he decided against using a kidou technique and giving the teen a fighting chance as he tried to impale him from behind.

Ichigo had been getting faster, and it was enough for him to turn around and meet him halfway, his defense a little lacking and Benihime tasted his blood once more as the blade slipped under Zangetsu to carve a shallow line on his torso–cutting through his clothes as if they meant nothing.

Ichigo winced and kicked him to get away, trying to regain his bearings even as he never stopped watching his opponent.

Kisuke can feel a smile tugging on his lips before he’s darting forward, using a well calculated shunpo burst to get behind his pupil again –but this time Ichigo was ready.

Instead of trying to turn around, Ichigo ran forward with shunpo while aiming a small getsuga tenshou at his back.

Since he hadn’t called it or had made any grandiose movements to announce it, the small but powerful wave of black reiatsu took Kisuke by surprise and while he countered it easily enough with another of Benihime’s techniques, he lost precious seconds of visibility which Ichigo took advantage of by getting behind him with a stockade worthy of the best fencer in the world.

Kisuke spared some seconds to wonder if Yoruichi had taught him that, and how did he pull that one out since as lithe as his bankai was, it was still not a fencing blade.

Nonetheless, he has to call Benihime’s crimson shield and do a silly pirouette to avoid being impaled by this teenager before he smiles at him and finally mutters, “Shibari, Benihime.”

Kurosaki’s eyes widen comically but he has no time to do anything other than raise Zangetsu defensively, but the almost intangible binds of Benihime crawl his way, faster than light, enveloping his whole body and immobilizing him immediately.

“My, Kurosaki-san, you still need to work on your reaction time when on the attack.” Kisuke said with another grin, taking pleasure on the way Kurosaki grumbled and still tried breaking through the tight net. Kisuke was mildly curious as to know if this boy _could_ break through it with sheer brute strength, but this was neither the time nor the place. With a quick flick of his sword, the net was lifted and the teen stumbled to the ground when he was suddenly able to move.

Kisuke sealed Benihime again as he clip-clopped his way over to the fallen teen. “Now! Are you ready to go meditate or would you like a brief recess?”

Kurosaki shot him a dark glower as he pushed himself to a sitting position. “One of these days,” he growled out, a scowl of defiance on his face, even as he allowed Kisuke close to heal the gash on his chest. “I’ll wipe that smug grin off your face, just you wait.”

“I can hardly wait.” Kisuke said as all answer, but even if he sounded mocking, he was telling the truth. After all, he _would_ need to get stronger than him to be able to beat Aizen.

“I’ll leave you to it, I have to check up on a small project of mine. I assume you don’t need any assistance?” Kisuke said upon seeing the unblemished skin of his pupil. When the teen shook his head resolutely, he gave him a small smile of encouragement before disappearing up the tramp.

Now, he needed to continue analyzing the composition of Hierro for a cute little weapon of his.

 

 

When Kisuke returned, he couldn’t help but stare with no little amusement at the sleeping teen. The boy had been meditating —he was finally figuring out how to do it on his own— and had somehow fallen asleep upright—legs tucked under him, chin resting on his chest. The straw blond, called him in a loud voice and the teen bolted up, standing on wobbly legs.

He was about to shout again, when the Vizard groaned softly clutching his head. Clicking his tongue, Kisuke approached the teen and ushered him to his house for rest. He endured the snappy come-backs when the man had called off the training until Kurosaki felt better and instead suggested he did something more teen-like.

The boy had the gall to snort.

 

 

And without fail, after each and every training night would find them both nursing a cup of tea, sometimes with a bottle of whisky on the side as Kurosaki relented his strong persona to a slightly more vulnerable teen.

Kisuke was unsure what this meant, but he knew he could blame it on the alcohol.

 

 “…Soul Society certainly needs to get that rid of that stick up their collective ass—asses?” Kisuke had to cough into his cup taken by surprise by this out-of-the-blue comment. He looked up to the red-cheeked brat in front of him, amused.

“Why do you say so?”

“They were really in a rush to execute Rukia for helping a human. Yet three captains defect and well, I think the ruckus was quite minor in comparison. What do you think, Urahara…-san?”

Kisuke mulled the words in his mouth as if he had taken a sip of a spoiled drink. “…You should drop the honorific if you feel… uncomfortable, you know.”

Ichigo’s whole face darkened much to his surprise. “I don’ wanna do that.”

Kisuke stared for a long, silent moment before he finally said, in a low tone. “I don’t think I deserve such respect.”

“It’s not- man, you complicate things up, huh?” The teen grumbled as he scratched his head. Looking far too lucid for one frightening second. “Anyway, I’ve never dropped honorifics for a reason like that —I just don’t use them —, it’s just that. I got the impression. That I knew you a little more.” Kurosaki tried to explain before he shot a fierce scowl at a stunned Kisuke. “But I’m keeping the honorifics!”

“Ah…okay.” The shopkeeper lamely replied, before a finger was pointed at him.

“Answer the question.”

“I…” The former captain easily recalled the topic of conversation. “I must say that Soul Society is pretty messed up.”

The teen’s face immediately went from annoyed to regretful so fast Kisuke almost doubted if he had seen correct the first time.

“…Sorry.” He mumbled in a quiet tone.

“Eh? What for?” Kisuke asked, honestly lost about the sudden topic change again.

“I think I shouldn’t have asked. Does it still bring …resentment?”

“Why do you…?” Exactly how much had Yoruichi told him? Ohh he was going to strangle that cat when he saw her!

“Do you miss it?” The carrot top teen mumbled, looking at him only from the corner of his eyes. Kisuke stiffened, sending an inscrutable glance at him, before his features softened in defeat and a wisp of nostalgia tinged his smile. Thinking that that was answer enough, the teen shrugged and nonchalantly asked, “I heard you were a captain.” His eyes scanning Kisuke’s black haori, a faint smile curving his lips.

“…Yes.” Kisuke slowly admitted, self-consciously tugging at his dark coat. Ichigo decided to be merciful and not comment on it.

“Hmm. You certainly have the captain-look. Now the Twelve is captained by a creepy guy…uh Kuro…Kurotsuchi?

“Ah, yes. My third seat…”

“That guy is the creepiest being I’ve seen. And I’ve seen quite the creepy guys.” Ichigo said with sudden candor. The scowl on his face was firm. “Heard he was beaten by Ishida. Last thing he did before he lost his powers. That guy certainly has a flair for the dramatic.”

“Oh, and you don’t?” Kisuke teased, missing how the teen sitting across him threw him a shrewd glance and smiled self-satisfyingly before hiding it with a scowl.

“Hell no!” The teen said as he slapped the sake out of Kisuke’s hands to pour himself.

“Ara, I fear I’m making a drunk out of you.” The blond lamented with a heavy sigh. Oddly, the teen paused, before he set back the bottle of alcohol having only half filled his vase. “Kurosaki-san?”

“This is all your fault. You deal with it.” He said as a way of cheers, before downing it. The young male didn’t even blink as the alcohol went down his throat. Then he set the small cup upside down. “My mom never liked when Goat Face drank too much though.”

“Did she now.” The shopkeeper said, shaking his head softly. “I’m glad there was someone to keep Isshin in line. Guess I now have to do the same for you.”

“Wha-? I’m not turning into the second coming of him, Geta-boushi!”

 _You’ll never be like him._ “I sure hope not.” The sand haired man said, shaking his head in mock disapproval just to be flicked on the head. And then, a bit out of spite, and a lot out of personal amusement, the teen let the comment finally fall out of his lips.

 “Oh, by the way, nice coat you have there, Urahara- _taicho…”_   He said, lightly enough and it took Kisuke a moment to understand what that meant. When he realized how this ridiculous teen had finally connected the dots about how his coat was a carbon copy of the captain’s haori, he couldn’t help himself.

Centuries of secrecy meant nothing as a steady blush spread across his face.

Kurosaki Ichigo had the gall to smile at him, before saying goodbye and strutting out of the shoten as if he had just had a very good day out for picnic instead of another grueling training day.

 

 

Kurosaki didn’t return the following day, but when he eventually got around to returning for his training regime, the first thing out of his lips was, “so did you design your coat, or did you have it made, Urahara-taicho?”

Kisuke’s initial grin turned into a sketchy glare. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

He stared dubiously as the teen rolled his eyes before inviting himself inside.

Ichigo had managed to coax a –“Not pouting, Kurosaki-san!” – Urahara into joining him with his hand-to-hand combat while Yoruichi skipped town. And of course, his hollow had to decide it was a nice time to pop out.

 

Ichigo’s lungs strained for breath, his face taut and his frame tense; as he tried to regain control over himself, he quickly reviewed what had happened in the brief yet excruciatingly long seconds in which his hollow had taken over. Distantly he noticed the area was deadly quiet and he could feel stone-colored eyes staring down at him. Ichigo tried to ignore all this, focusing on trying to breathe normally.

Kisuke absently lifted a hand to touch the small cut on his chin as he made sure his student wasn’t in any danger. Other than completely breathless —in the aftermath of the hollow appearance, the teen’s knees had buckled under him, and he stayed like that— he seemed physically fine. But he was too tense, either from fear of his hollow trying to take over again or… “Need a hand?” He asked, extending a hand to the other.

Kurosaki half-flinched away and half-turned, his stony features betraying nothing. Quietly now, the teen rose to his feet refusing Kisuke’s help, his back to him. Stay away from me, he seemed to say. What should he do? What would be correct?

“Kurosaki-san…. I must apologize.” The words escaped Kisuke’s traitorous lips before the man had time to think. This at least seemed to catch the other’s attention. Storm eyes looked down at the floor as the shopkeeper managed to produce a fan from inside his haori and open it over his face out of reflex. “I truly am.”

“The fuck?... What are you going about?” Kurosaki asked, shoulders loosening up the smallest bit. But Kisuke was no longer looking at him.

“The hollow inside you… This is all my fault. I gambled your life and… things didn’t exactly go as planned. The hollow wasn’t supposed to…”

“Shut up, will you?” The brown-eyed male spoke tiredly and Kisuke immediately did so. So apparently he knew nothing about how to make someone else feel better. Well, better for now to tuck away his useless guilt and get Kurosaki to get treated at the very least.

But then his train of thought stopped when he sensed movement and his eyes snapped up in time to meet brown ones when the teen turned around. He was still tense, but now there was more resignation than anything else. Even as he was thinking that, his face smoothed out a bit more.

“Kurosaki-san?”

“Okay, I’m fine now. I- eh, I’ll be leaving so…”

“Wait, Kurosaki-san-!” Kisuke exclaimed out of reflex, noticing the other’s surprise he quickly added, “I have to treat your wounds and Tessai already brewed some tea for us…”

“Don’t bother. It’s fine.” The boy mumbled, already walking away. Kisuke was immediately in his way.

“I must insist, Kurosaki-san! It is too much tea and food for only me, but I can’t make Tessai feel bad! Please help me!” Kisuke exclaimed much to the other’s surprise and confusion. By his very confusion, somehow Kisuke managed to coax the teen to share a cup of tea or two —neither of them commented on Kurosaki’s already healed wounds.

 

“Cheers for having obtained your bankai!” Kisuke raised his whisky glass high, exuding enough enthusiasm for the two of them. Ichigo stared at his own glass –filled only with tea in his case– before downing it and standing up immediately after. Kisuke’s face immediately gained a more solemn note.

“Urahara-san…I think I really should leave.” The teen mumbled, even as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. Where to go.

“A-ah, please stay a little longer…” Kisuke managed to get out, frantically trying to come up with a plan, something to do. To make the teen less… strung up.

“Why?... Don’t I scare you?” Kurosaki mumbled at last, looking quite honestly–miserable.

Kisuke wet his lips. “Scared? Me? I feel as if you’re underestimating me, Kurosaki-san. I’ve lived a long time, it’s not the first time I’ve met someone like you. And besides, I know that you’re quite the decent person.”

“…” Kurosaki had been looking down as if expecting to be shot down, but as his words finally processed, he jerked up, a frown of confusion on his face. “Wait, someone like me? Who-?”

“I’m going to withhold that information for now.” Kisuke said, hating how a shadow of doubt clouded his pupil’s eyes, even though this was what he had been doing ever since the boy was conceived. “These people should seek you out voluntarily but it’s still their secret to keep. My apologies.”

“So there _is_ a way.” The carrot top mumbled in the ensuing silence, slightly surprised.

“What do you mean Kurosaki-san?” Kisuke queried, confused by those words.

“…I thought that since you didn’t say anything before…I assumed you didn’t know how to control this.” Here he gestured at his face recalling the Hollow mask. Kisuke started and wide grey eyes focused on the young Vizard.

“I…Why did you think so?”

Kurosaki was strangely silent after that. He seemed to be mulling the words, as if debating whether to say anything at all. Somehow, it worried Kisuke.

“Dunno… Just…” Kurosaki rubbed his neck and smiled at him in such a manner it was more like a grimace. “I thought you would’ve said something. But, of course… I’m not…”

For some reason, Kisuke’s heart dropped in his chest and he didn’t have time to decide what to say when the words sprung from his lips, unrestrained. Unmonitored. “No, I didn’t mean that! I-I was never…I just helped them escape but how they learned to control it …It wasn’t-I wasn’t told and-“

Kurosaki blinking at him, with a slack jaw was enough for Kisuke to regain himself and _shut up_. What was he? A nervous teenager?

A small but honest smile began pulling at Ichigo’s lips. “It’s okay. I believe you. I…” He chuckled, looking far more light now than all evening despite Kisuke’s best attempts. “Thank you.”

Kisuke nodded in his best resemblance of calmness. That was immediately broken by the teen’s quiet mumble of, “That’s actually kinda cute.” Kisuke blinked once. He blinked again, heat rising again. And then he noticed the red tint on the laughing teen. He glanced at the table and to their empty cups. Oh so he was drunk, Kisuke relaxed, amusement replacing his embarrassment.  Dear lord, he hadn’t talked with that much obvious nervousness for centuries! ... And he wasn’t cute. Kisuke pouted a little as the teen continued to laugh.

(Somehow, in his fretting, he had forgotten the fact that Ichigo had just drunk tea.)

“I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t have not helped had you known how…Thanks, man….” And with more shocking words, the Vizard finally fell asleep. The older man wanted to tilt his hat down, only to notice he had set it down earlier. Still his eyes were shadowed as he stared at the snoring teen.

“Thank you, Kurosaki-san. It’s nice to know that someone trusts you.”

 

Yes, it was nice but still not worth risking his plan or risking the continued existence of the Soul King.

Kisuke hated himself for even thinking like that.

 

 

He knew he had promised to meet Kurosaki for another spar, but the guilt still churning in his stomach had gotten so strong he awoke one morning physically ill.

He locked himself in the bathroom, and when he wasn’t actively puking, he sat by the toilet and hated himself some more.

It was one thing to see a couple capable of producing a child that would be strong enough to defeat Aizen. It was a whole another thing to watch the child grow, to feel the boy trust him and confide in him and want his approval and just _acting as if Kisuke was important for him, a safe haven when it was all just a_ **fucking ruse.**

He had no leg to stand on, he deserved nothing but scorn…

And yet he had begun to seek out Ichigo’s approval as well.

Pathetic.

(And still, this was not enough to stop him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should not be posting this rn, but oh well. Their relationship is moving along! Kisuke is still dying with guilt but Ichigo is much more comfortable with him.  
> I'll come back later to add more words probably.
> 
> Don't forget to drop a comment!


	5. Chapter 5

“Is he still not in?” Ichigo asked Yoruichi, who had taken to greet him the next couple of days, since Kisuke had been “away”. Each time, the woman would invite him in, telling him that she would train him that day, and Ichigo always complied, happy to add variety to his regimen, but he never stopped making questions.

Where was he? Was he alright? When was he coming back?

The black cat would answer his questions in such a way no answer was ever actually given. Ichigo noticed, but he really had nothing to say, given that he was the one intruding and Yoruichi and Urahara had known each other for far longer.

“It’s nothing serious, is it?” Ichigo had asked at last, worry actually eating away at him. It didn’t help how Yoruichi had hesitated before handing him the heavy weights to strap on his legs.

She’s silent some more before she finally said, “it’s nothing he can’t overcome. But,” And here she directed blazing gold eyes at him. “This is an issue that only pertains to him, so you have no need to know more.

“Now, shall we begin?”

 

* * *

 

Even though he had refused to see his face, Kisuke had still kept an eye out for the boy. And so he knew the moment in which Hirako and the rest finally approached Ichigo.

 

He sat there as that immense cloud of reiatsu that was Kurosaki tinged with panic, with unease as Hirako’s hollowified reiatsu washed over the area.

Way to make friends.

Kurosaki was used to rough treatment, used to people choosing a blade over an explanation, but really, in this time of war, in this topic of souls…

Hirako should have done better.

Kisuke sighed, catching Yoruichi’s attention.

“If you’re so worried why don’t you go get the kid? God knows he comes here almost daily.” She said, her golden cat eyes scrutinizing his face. She was sitting across him, having been in the process of a casual drinking night, when the battle of reiatsu had destroyed any possibility for distractions.

The exiled captain sketched a tired smile, “someone ought to teach him not to trust so easily.”

Yoruichi dropped her gaze to her beer. “I don’t think that’s the problem here.”

There was silence, as Kisuke looked at his friend’s hands trailing a hand over the condensation beads of her drink.

“I can’t face him.” Kisuke blurted out, sounding like the child he had stopped being the first time he had been caught stealing as a Rukongai rat. Like the child only Yoruichi and Tessai knew of. “I can’t keep on smiling at him knowing what I’m doing to him.”

Yoruichi’s posture didn’t change, her tone of voice was the same, but her words were still like a ball and chain locked on his ankles. “If you can think like that then you absolutely cannot stop. That boy has found comfort in you of all people. You owe him at least that much. Even if it tears you in half, you have to smile for him.”

Smile, huh.

When had his smile been worth so much?

When had it become so difficult?

 

* * *

 

It is no more than a day later that Kurosaki diligently made his way to the shop once more. More than any sense of obligation or commitment, it was the way the boy hesitated outside his shoten, not going anymore near what made Kisuke finally give in.

Kisuke ignored the pain in his gut, the acid taste of guilt, as he pushed himself to his feet and opened the door and his fan simultaneously.

“Oh, Kurosaki-san, what a nice surprise!”

The way relief washed over the teen’s face almost made him close the door in his face but he refrained.

Before he can think of something to say, Kurosaki scowled just as hard as always. “I really, _really_ hate your friends, Urahara-san.”

The former captain can’t help the words, “What friends are we talking about, Kurosaki-san?” In a joking manner, which is not at all what the teen needed as he just opened his mouth, ready to dish out some insults, but instead decided to glower darkly at the wooden frame by his side.

“It’s nothing,” he whispered sullenly. Shoulders tense, the boy bobbed his head, “sorry for bothering you, good evening.”

And in a few swift strides, the teenage boy was gone.

 

Kisuke wasted no time in following the wandering teen. He saw Kurosaki enter the district that housed the Tears House, as he had unknowingly named it.

The lonely boy was barely nearing the area when he uncharacteristically stopped dead on his tracks. Kisuke froze as well, worried he had been caught, but Kurosaki just swore violently. “Damn that Hirako-bastard!”  And before Kisuke has any time to react over those words, he dashed away from there.

Kisuke was surprised he had been able to pinpoint the Vizard’s location nearby.

 

* * *

That same night, Kisuke is already out and running before the cracks in the sky are bigger than a toothpick.

While Hirako kept the Kurosaki son busy, he hurried to the boy’s house, already picking out Grand Fisher of all things crashing into their plane of existence.

He hesitated for a single second, enough for the hollow– _arrancar–_ to pinpoint the modsoul in Kurosaki’s body. He remembered the Quincy girl, so young and so happy with her family.

With her eyes of steel, who had looked at him and condemned him.

_“Please,” she had said. “If something ever happens to me. If I can’t protect my family, please protect them, Kisuke-san.”_

Kisuke wondered when had he become such a noble man.

Isshin’s look of surprise remained frozen on his gigai as Kisuke irrupted into his house and promptly separated his soul from it without even a hello.

Just as Kisuke had predicted it, Isshin had enough reiatsu built up to regain his Shinigami form, Engetsu at his hip.

“I hope you can at least do this for your other children?” Kisuke can’t help the comment, his smile as sharp as Benihime.

The man had the decency to look away.

In a whisper he said, “burn, Engetsu.”

 

Kisuke was gone before the flames exploded all around them. Even as weakened as he was, Isshin still had a considerable amount of reiatsu in him.

That would take care of Grand Fisher (distantly he wondered if Masaki’s soul would be purified, and sent to Soul Society complete. He sure hoped so.)

 

* * *

Before closing the door to his laboratory, Kisuke spared a thought to Kurosaki, wondering, hoping he would be fine. He would have to be, his more callous side would say, Aizen would make his move soon.

The time was drawing near.

Kurosaki Ichigo needed to gain control over his hollow.

He…

Kisuke forced all thoughts away from his mind and focused on what he could actually do something about.

He needed to notify Akon to be on the look-out, the Arrancars would be coming soon.

 

 

* * *

 

It’s a test.

It’s a test. It’s a test. It’s a test.

Kisuke chanted like a mantra, as if somehow those words would make this situation any better. As if it would make them not going out this instant to assist the fifteen-year-old boy with something far out of his reach any better.

The man continued to pace inside his mind, while he sat tense and nervous inside his lab.

He looked down at his hands. They would be trembling if they weren’t holding Benihime.

“When are we going out?” Yoruichi popped inside to say, and Kisuke gripped his cane harder.

“When Kurosaki begins to lose.”

“It won’t be long, then.”

Kisuke would want to disagree with her, not only for his desire for the boy to be alright; but because the continued existence of all three planes of existence depended on how strong this boy could get.

But that couldn’t happen if he didn’t gain control over…

His reiatsu began to flicker.

It began to roar and dim and taint hollow.

When Kisuke slammed the door open, Yoruichi was already running.

They didn’t trade a word. Simply dashed out at their fastest shunpo.

 

 

* * *

 

This was probably a callous thought but…

It was fortunate neither of these teens had parents.

Kisuke thought as he heard the Kurosaki boy apologize to the Santen Kesshun user for his inability to protect her.

Her injuries had been so grievous that even with the water of the Springs, she was not fully healed. Kurosaki too, was still pretty bad off but had refused treatment. Probably as a form of atonement.

Why had they decided to let everything in hands of these teens?

Why had they created more child soldiers?

As Kurosaki swore he would get stronger, that he would defeat everyone, Kisuke knew their plan was advancing in the right direction.

(Was that even a good thing?)

 

 

After Yasutora and Inoue were discharged, Kurosaki didn’t come back.

Kisuke didn’t blame him. But still it worried him.

To take his mind off this, he returned to his lab, preferring to think about Yoruichi’s injuries, and how to minimize damage from a close-combat fight with the equivalent of a freight train.

 

 

* * *

 

Nobody had informed him of this. Kisuke thought sullenly as he handed the First Defense team the necessary equipment and the equivalent currency for blending in the Human society despite knowing they’d most likely just free-load their way in.

Matsumoto Rangiku laughed at his appearance as Hitsugaya agreed with a tsking noise. The former captain was hard-pressed not to pull Benihime on them and the only real reason he didn’t was that he was too confused at where that thought had come from. That was more something that Kurosaki would do. Not him.

He pulled his coat closer to himself, not even trying to smooth the wrinkles away. He had rushed his way out of his labs, Benihime at hand as he had sensed far too many Shinigami assembling outside his shop and had had little time to hastily exit his lab and tell his kids to go to the back so he could receive the rude, _rude_ Shinigami that arrived without a notice.

Having slept half an hour for the past three days, it took all of his self-control to smile at them instead of stabbing everyone and then himself.

(They even dismiss his suggestion of releasing their limiters _now_ instead of during the fight so they could have an extra advantage.)

 

 

And that carelessness is almost their undoing as the _First Defense_ of a whole town is almost defeated by some random escapade of one of Aizen’s beloved Arrancars.

He didn’t step in Kurosaki’s fight and maybe that had been a mistake. He had somehow still trusted the Shinigami to have the sense of protecting the child soldier in their midst but that had been too much to ask.

He dug his nails on the table.

(At least _they_ weren’t grooming him like a pig for the slaughter.)

He inhaled sharply as a nail bent and broke with a shooting pain. Kisuke cursed at the drops of blood on his report, but it was enough to make him focus again on his job.

He needed to gather information, to see how the Shinigami fought against these enemies. How much Karakura would be affected.

 

 

* * *

 

Kurosaki was training with the Vizards, the Ishidas were probably training together and Yasutora had come to his humble shop to train with Abarai –the only one who hadn’t found or hadn’t tried to find accommodations anywhere else.

Yoruichi’s weapons were ready, she had already tested them and her mobility was just reduced by 2% by the end of the waiting period. With his hands free again, his mind began to wander again.

But that was easily solved by trying to come up with a plan that would effectively defeat Aizen.

Even if it involved thinking about the boy’s fate.

 

Maybe that’s the reason he refused to help Orihime regenerate her fighting spirit. He wasn’t wrong in what he said, and she had never actually tried mastering this facet of her powers, but he had failed to acknowledge her feelings of uselessness and helplessness and that backfired on him.

He wanted to get her out of Aizen’s line of sight by keeping her on the sidelines.

But he had made her feel helpless enough not to offer too much of a fight or cry for help when Aizen inevitably tried and succeeded in capturing her.

Or simply he had underestimated her powers and didn’t actually set any proper security or surveillance to protect her.

(He had failed yet another child.)

 

 

* * *

 

Urahara-san, do you mind?” Kisuke just stared wide-eyed at the appalled teen that had appeared on his doorstep the very next day. He wordlessly moved aside to let the teen enter his shop and guided him to the basement room.

As soon as the door was closed, a wave of _furious_ reiatsu hit him and Kisuke almost fell from the ladder. He clung on and descended amidst the dense reiatsu, coming out like tidal waves from the teen. Kurosaki was facing the other way, his taut shoulders a foreboding of something about to go wrong.

In the middle of the pulsing energy, the boy bowed his head. “They labeled her a traitor.” He strangled out, hands trembling in fury.

“Ah.” The blond whispered, lowering his hat. “The Captain Commander-“

“Is a fucking idiot!” The teen spat, another wave of reiatsu hitting the older man. “They can’t even detect a traitor in their midst and he has the _gall_ to call Inoue….to call her-“

“Ah, he certainly seems not to have the knack for-“Kisuke’s eyes narrowed and he used the base of his cane to separate the soul of the teen. “Kurosaki-san, at this rate you’ll only damage your human body.”

“Sorry.”

“Ah, it’s alright, I…“ Once again, Urahara Kisuke found himself unable to do anything for the young teen in front of him.

“It’s alright, Urahara-san. Sorry for bothering you.” The carrot top mumbled passively already reigning in his reiatsu and the shopkeeper sighed. He walked forward and gently placed his hand on top of the teen’s head,

“You’re not bothering anyone, Kurosaki-san.” He said, as he ruffled the other’s hair. Kurosaki didn’t look at him. “I heard that the old man tried to order you around.”

Black and red reiatsu surging from the teen violently destroying part of their surroundings was answer enough.

 “Maa, but he doesn’t have any say with you, am I right?” The first semblance of a smile appeared on the young male’s face.

“Damn right he doesn’t.”

“And I so happen to know of a way of entering Hueco Mundo.” A startled teen whirled around to stare at the ex-captain. “And it may already have been all set for you.”

(Because after fifteen years, it was a no-brainer what would happen. What his self-sacrificing hero would do even if it went against all rules.)

(Sending the boy to fix yet another of his mistakes. Sending him to yet another test, to continue grooming him for a final battle. Aizen wouldn’t face him just yet. That was almost a guarantee.)

 

“Seriously? But are you sure?” Kurosaki continued asking, earnest brown eyes ignorant of the plans and machinations running through his mind. “That would be going against Soul Society…”

Shrewd steel eyes glanced at him. The shopkeeper started walking away.

“How do you suppose I ended up here in the first place, Kurosaki-san?”

After a stunned pause, the teen said to him, “Ichigo.”

“Excuse me?” Kisuke glanced at him again, confused by the non-sequitur.

“’Ichigo’ is alright y’know. You’re way too formal, taking in consideration how much you’ve helped me. It’s getting weird too.” Kurosaki said, rubbing the back of his head. Kisuke’s staring made him scoff, “What?”

Kisuke licked his lips to try to gain previous seconds to recompose himself.

“…I’ll call you that when you come back from Hueco Mundo.” He proposed, an edge of weariness showing on his face. He knew that both of them caught the ‘ _if_ you come back’ but neither commented on it.

(How he wished he could sit him down and explain things, tell him that if he mastered Mugetsu _now,_ while his Hogyouku was still dormant, there was a chance he could survive.

But that was just wishful thinking.)

“Alright then, it’s a promise!”  Kurosaki declared, much more lively and calm than before. Reiatsu already in check, the teen was ready to storm Hueco Mundo on his own. “Now, open up the portal.”

“Wait, wait, Kurosaki-san!” The blond shinigami quickly said, inwardly smiling when the other scowled at the way of address. He sobered up, if there’s anything he could do to give him better odds, there was no way he wasn’t going to. “There are some final preparations I must make and there is someone waiting for you upstairs.”

“Someone? Who? What do you mean Urahara…-san?” Ichigo visibly stumbled over the way of address, shooting him a sullen look that Kisuke couldn’t help but laugh at. The shopkeeper just smiled and pointed up. The teen made a face at him, before turning to begin his climb to the upper level.

.

 

* * *

 

After receiving a punch in the gut –courtesy of an offended carrot top–the former captain of the Twelfth watched as the three teens jumped into the pseudo Garganta and their reiatsu vanished as soon as the window closed.

Now, all that was left was to wait.


	6. Chapter 6

Kisuke has spent most of his life waiting. Waiting for the right moment to speak. The right moment to attack.

Waiting for his weapon to grow.

And now, he was waiting for the Kurosaki boy to come back. Because he would come back, of that there was no doubt.

Maybe it was because of the sheer amount of things he needed to do, but this time he felt like the time went away in a flash.

 

Before he knows it, Kisuke wakes up with an alarm ringing over his ears that could only mean one thing.

Kurosaki had succeeded. They were back.

 

“Hey, I’m back.” The boy said, looking tired and about to collapse– just like the rest of the teens that had fortunately made it back. Kisuke smiled, as he helped all of them find their beds Kisuke had set down in the basement while his friend Tessai made sure they weren’t injured.

“Welcome back, Kurosaki-san.” Kisuke mumbled, helping the teen down on the bed. The boy immediately opened his eyes and scowled weakly at him, much to is surprise.

“Hey. We made a promise.” He said, fighting against his drowsiness for a moment.

Kisuke blinked, noticing the fervor in his eyes. He sighed, feeling slightly ill at ease. “You are correct, my apologies Ichigo-kun.”

The boy smiled oddly enough but before he could say anything to him, the boy let his eyes close and fell asleep.

Kisuke tilted his trustworthy hat down and left him to rest.

 

When Ichigo woke up again, Kisuke would be out, and he’d have no choice other than to go home without having spoken to him.

 

* * *

 

Kisuke had tried to keep his distance, trying to ignore the void in his stomach every time he remembered the banal promise he had made – that only paled with the plans that were set in stone, unchangeable even with the guilt.

But of course that life only allowed him a couple days before the Kurosaki teen sought him out anyway, corralling him in the kitchen with the excuses of “wanting to talk to someone”. He most definitively wasn’t someone Kurosaki should want to talk to, but in the face of the eager teen – _eager, pure, earnest–_ he couldn’t quite say no.

So they sat down, the teen on one edge of the table with Kisuke on the other corner, almost at a ninety degree from him. He had Ururu bring them tea, and the instant she left them alone again, the Kurosaki boy began telling him of his newest adventures in Hueco Mundo and Las Noches as if he couldn’t wait any longer.

The shopkeeper remained mostly quiet, only making a comment here and there (“You _healed_ the enemy? What possessed you to do that?”) and generally congratulating him. The teen also exposed a couple suppositions he had made over there (“I just…When Aizen put the Privaron Espada out on the front line of defense…They had been on top just to be toppled and ignored. They had nothing to lose and if they beat us they’d receive glory. Aizen used them. And yet they didn’t mind.”)

He also ranted on Kisuke’s behalf, angry at the Captain Commander (“That fucking geezer ordered you around as if he had the right to! Who the fuck does he thinks he is? He thinks the whole world revolves around his words…Now that I think about it, I think I know where Aizen got that attitude from.”) effectively cracking Kisuke up, easing up the bitter memory of it all.

Though after he finished, the teen’s demeanor changed, seemingly remembering more than he would tell. Before Kisuke could ask him what was wrong, the teen’s face connected with the table with a loud thud.

“Kurosaki-san!?”

“Sorry. Could you do me a favor? Can you…could you…”

“Anything. Just say it, Kurosaki-ah, Ichigo-kun.”

“Could you…” The boy swallowed before finally pushing out the words. “Could you tell me that I’m not a murderer?”

 A familiar chill ran down Kisuke’s back. “Oh course you’re not, Ichigo-kun.  You’re the knight in shining armor that went to rescue the kidnapped Hime.”

“…That’s corny.”

“Of course it is, it is you we’re talking about.”

Kisuke glimpsed a smile.

“Not more than you.” Kurosaki finally retorted, before the smile vanished, “Sorry for saying all this out of the blue. It’s just that I heard some phony psychology of me and…”

“You should know by now, not to take your enemies’ words at face value. After all, they only see a distorted version of you, whichever suits them best. I bet whoever said that didn’t take in account how you fight only to protect, and you grow stronger to protect better.”

“But I-“

“ _But,”_ Kisuke bulldozed over Ichigo, unwilling to let him think even for a second he wasn’t the purest soul he has met. “You’re also a living being. You also defend your pride, your _self_. And even though you mainly protect, you understand that that’s not always possible and attacking is necessary.”

“Thank you.” He closed his eyes, before mumbling to himself, almost inaudibly, “It’s much better being a monster than a murderer.”

“ _Ichigo-kun_.” Kisuke’s voice was gelid as ice, though the teen didn’t even stir. He actually scowled when the teen didn’t immediately look up. “Ichigo. Look at me.”

 “What’s wrong, Urahara?” The teen asked, honestly looking surprised, as he tilted his head to stare at him without actually lifting it off the table.

“You are _not_ a monster. Don’t ever refer yourself as such.”

“Gee, don’t get so angry for that. Besides, part of my soul is a _hollow,_ how can you say I’m not the smallest bit monstrous?”

“You are not! Have you not listened to anything I’ve ever said to you!?” Kisuke exclaimed, voice rising to an almost shout. This startled both males by the outburst and made Kurosaki finally raise his head.

“Hey, I do listen to you. I listen to you way more than I should, given your manipulative nature.” The scowling teen defended himself and Kisuke’s demeanor softened.

“Ichigo-kun, you are not a monster. You never were and you’ll never be.” The storm-eyed man said in a soft voice, instinctively stretching to lay a hand on a tense shoulder. “So what if you have an inner hollow? I already told you then, and I’ll say it again. You are beautiful. Being able to work together with another part of your soul…and seeing the manifestation in a physical way… There’s a beauty in that that I can’t explain.” While he said this, Kisuke stood up and plopped himself right next to a surprised orangehead, so he could better wrap his arm around his shoulders. As if his touch could stop his gentle trembling.

“…You’d be the first to think that.” Came the surprisingly vulnerable reply, but before the older man could say anything more, the teen hurried to add. “No, no, shut up already. I get it. I…uh, Thanks…again.” He said, a small smile curving his lips and lighting up his face. The shopkeeper smiled back almost as a reflex and then there was a sudden pull, an urge, a need to…

Kisuke blinked, and the tug inside him was forced down. What had been that about?

“Urahara?” Ichigo called, and Kisuke forced himself to concentrate on the other teen instead. Though he was forcefully brought back with all his attention on the other when the orangehead smiled deviously.

“Ichigo-kun, what’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that…your hat is over yonder, and your stupid fan is nowhere on sight.” The teen said, ignoring Kisuke’s “Hey, it’s not stupid!”, and continued. “Meaning, that I have quite the clear view of your face, Urahara.”

He couldn’t help it, he noticeably blushed this time. Suddenly realizing he was still half-hugging the teen, he let go and stood up to get his ever-faithful hat from the floor–hearing the other cackle vindictively. When exactly had he discarded it?

Thanks to his flustering, Kisuke missed how a flicker of fear and _loathing_ crossed the teen’s features as a shadow of his fight with Ulquiorra resurfaced. He clenched his two hands together –trying not to look at them and see claws– and tried to pretend he was alright.

It was indeed nice hearing it, but Ichigo knew better than that. He had been shown proof that he was indeed a monster. He had shown his friends as much. This was surely one of the things he could talk to Urahara about but…

How could he tell _anyone_ about that revolting thing that was part of himself? That monster living inside him?

No, let him bury that.

Don’t let them hate him.

 

 

* * *

 

This was absurd. Absolutely ridiculous and had been going on too long. It served no purpose whatsoever and it didn’t help in _anything._ Kisuke knew all that, all too well. Yet today he couldn’t bother to care. As always.

 He had shut himself in his room –as he did each year– and numbed down his reiatsu sensing so he could only feel himself and his self-pity. Like that he would celebrate this amazing anniversary that without fail, managed to cripple his will to function, before he could crush it down again for another year.

His friends handled things their own way. Yoruichi had that date ingrained in her very soul and she always scampered off for weeks before that, like a stray. Tessai, on the other hand… he had moved on. Which meant that he tried –with the best intentions, Kisuke had to admit– to make him move on as well.

But he had a hard-pressed time forgetting about the day he and many more had been betrayed by the organization they had devoted their lives to. The day when his name and reputation had been tainted for all eternity. Today was the day he had been exiled and had escaped to the Human World.

But that had been _centuries_ ago. It should have already been buried down somewhere inside him.

“Manager? Manager, are you awake?” And yet he couldn’t help but want to yell at his helpful friend to go away and leave him alone.

“You know I am, Tessai.” He said instead, finally pushing himself upright. He picked up his hat as he decided, and opened the door. Today he was going to do something else.  “Good morning. I hope you don’t need me until noon. I’ll go take a walk.” He said in one breath, hoping he could get everything out before his apathy got the best of him.

It was sad to perceive the surprise and relief from the Kidou genius. He knew it was because he usually just stayed cooped up in his room, only exiting under this man’s coaxing. He wanted to thank him for always being there, but as usual, this day always made Kisuke’s throat clog with unsaid words.

“Have a good day, then.” Tessai said as he bowed. Kisuke managed a smile at him, before taking Benihime and striding for the door.

 

Kisuke had to wonder how he had ended there. He just remembered walking without a sense of direction, merely avoiding all shinigami reiatsu and eventually tiring and sitting down. The blond sighed but didn’t make a move to leave. Maybe because he had been coming to the ‘Tears House’ often enough, his feet had carried him there. He was glad Ichigo wasn’t here today. He was plenty useless as it was.

He lay down on his back, idly staring at the sky. Trying not to compare it to another, much more familiar one. Wasn’t he a genius? Why couldn’t he understand that this was an incredible waste of time?

“Whatever.” He muttered to himself as he moved his stripped hat to cover his face. If he was going to do nothing either way, he’d better sleep. He wondered if Tessai would nag at him for sleeping exposed as he was and chuckled; of course he would.

‘And it’s not like I should miss much from there. The Captain Commander is as stuck up as always. My lieutenant is over here as well –thought she hates me more now of course– and Yoruichi…Hah. She’s the only who should be angry on these days…’ Even if she hadn’t been exiled and actually _could_ return secretly, she had still lost everything just to help him. His mind churned with guilt once again, even as he started falling asleep. He allowed his eyes to slip shut as his consciousness began to drift wonderfully.

“Kisuke-san?”

Kisuke’s heart jumped up his throat as he slid off the step, Benihime in one hand, wide eyes set on the… enemy?

His hat falling flat to the ground with a quiet thump was the only noise in the ensuing silence as the frazzled ex-captain stared at a surprised Ichigo.

Kisuke took half a second to take in the fact that the teen didn’t look very much distressed before he darted away in a flit of shunpo.

‘You’re really stupid, Kisuke. You even sensed him yet ignored that.’ The ex-captain admonished himself even as he sprinted to the outskirts of Karakura. Maybe he’d take some impromptu vacations, until things settled inside him. But soon enough he was quickly regretting the fact that he had personally trained the boy in sensing reiatsu and fighting with shunpo –even worse, Yoruichi had had a hand in this as well. He briefly glanced at the stubborn face of the other–noticing the other must have dropped his body somewhere since he was in his shinigami attire–, cursed himself once more and gave up. Not like it mattered that he managed to avoid the teen today, he would be hounded the following days anyway.

He held on to the hat he had thankfully grabbed, and nose-dived to the ground without a care. Just before touching the ground, he flipped and landed perfectly with his geta clacking. He put on his bucket hat and sprang open the paper fan he always kept with him. In front of him landed the teen, not winded at all from chasing him. Damn, he was scowling at him.

“Oho, congratulations, Kurosaki-san!” Oh oh. Kisuke rolled his eyes at himself; the fact that he had messed up with the name wouldn’t help his case at all. ‘Oh, well, let’s roll with it.’ “I see our training wasn’t wasted at all. You even kept up with me!”’ Unfortunately,’, he added mentally, much less cheerfully.

“…Kisuke-san.” Ichigo deadpanned, uttering a single word, yet holding a load of reprimand and questioning that didn’t elude Kisuke.

“Aha, sorry sorry, Ichigo-kun.” Though that that didn’t mean he couldn’t _pretend_ he had missed it. Ichigo didn’t say anything else, as he glowered at him. But, as the grey eyed man blinked, the teen was suddenly half a step away from him. Before he could react, Ichigo yanked the hat away from him, leaving his eyes exposed. Kisuke couldn’t help it, he jumped back in a fighting stance.

“Easy. I’m not looking for a fight.” An unperturbed orangehead said, raising his hands–one holding his precious hat– in the air. Kisuke was glad he still held his fan, so he could hide the slight flush that had risen to his cheeks. Getting taken by surprise was not something he was proud of. “I just wanted to ask you some stuff.”

‘I know. That’s the reason I’m trying to run away from you…’ Kisuke’s mind supplied, wholly unhelpful.

When Kisuke didn’t quip anything smart, or anything at all, Kurosaki cleared his throat and just went ahead with it. “I just wanted to know what were you doing there? I mean… it’s a bit far from your shop, so….” His voice was light, but Kisuke’s skin prickled as his eyes were shrewd and focused on him.

“I was taking a walk.” Kisuke said with a smile. He didn’t add anything else and they fell into a sudden silence.

“And you ended up _there_?” Why was there an emphasis? Kisuke perfectly knew what that place meant to the teen, but the teen didn’t know that Kisuke knew.

…Right?

“That seems like right. What were _you_ doing there, Ichigo-kun?” Time to redirect the questions. Either way, Kisuke was worried about this.

Ichigo was unimpressed. “I was following a certain dolt.”

What was going on? Kisuke was losing his grasp over the conversation and this teen wasn’t helping one bit.

Ichigo’s steady face scrunched up in annoyance and once again, before Kisuke could react, the fan was plucked away from his hands. Dear lord, he really was out of it today. Maybe he should have stayed in his room.

 ‘No, not maybe. I _definitely_ should have stayed in there.’ The pale blond thought tiredly.

“Ichigo-kun! Stop stealing from me!”

“It’s called, borrowing, Kisuke-san.” The teen said, twirling the hat on his finger; the shopkeeper threw a half-hearted glare at him. “Then? If you were only resting, why did you run away?”

Kisuke felt a strong urge to cross his arms and pout childishly. “Mou, am I in some sort of interrogation?”

The teen raised his gaze as if thinking, then replied with a swift, “yes. Now answer the question.”

“I’m starting to miss the previous you. You were much cuter before.” The older male joked, trying to get a rise out of the other.

“…” The teen did indeed seem to be slightly taken aback, but was back on track soon enough. “Too bad. I’m not planning on changing much.”

“And if I don’t want to answer?” The man tried. He was a little surprised at the challenging smirk that took over the other’s face.

“Then I’ll make you.” And the pale blond had to raise Benihime to block the blade coming his way. He pushed off, already feeling Benihime stirring, and was prepared for the next assault.

“Why don’t you tell me instead, why do you worry that I was in that abandoned house?” Kisuke shot back with a mild smile, already knowing that that was a sensitive topic, which Ichigo would likely try to avoid. And thus draw attention away from Kisuke, and he could use it to make a tactical retreat (aka fleeing). But yet again, he was surprised.

“You’ve seen me there twice already and you can’t take a shot in the dark? I thought you were a genius.” Was the apparently laid-back reply. Kisuke’s blade dipped down in surprise.

“Just like that? All these years of hiding yourself and you reveal it just like that?” The pale blond asked thoughtlessly, not noticing he had made a mistake.

“Well you already saw me twice, unfortunately, so…” Ichigo said, with an awkward rising of shoulders, before he trailed off, a frown of confusion crossing his features. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘all these years’…”

His gaze slid to the others footwear and something must have clicked in his brain as he paled so abruptly, Kisuke began to worry that he would pass out.

The shopkeeper lifted his free hand as if he was going to grab his shoulders. “Ichigo-kun? What’s the matter?”

“Since when? Since when have you-“ He appeared to get stuck on his words, concerning Kisuke even further by looking even closer to passing out. Then, the words registered in his mind.

“Oh. I…” Kisuke started, his free hand raising to tug down on his missing hat and instead he messed his hair. “I…might owe you an apology.”

“ _Shit_. Answer already, since when?” Ichigo cursed, Zangetsu trembling in his hold and composure gone. The shopkeeper felt pity for the teen so he turned his gaze to the sky as he answered.

“Since the very first time.” He finally said, to the obvious mortification of the other. He heard the other splurge and get strangled on his words for a long while, trying to find the right thing to say and not choke in the process.

“You-you…. you _bastard_!” The orangehead finally settled for that, and Kisuke thought it was alright to lower his gaze and look at the teen.

He was expecting a lot of things, but none of them had the poor teen _blushing_ from his ears.

“Ichigo-kun…” Kisuke said reflexively but unsure of what he would even say.

“No, shut up. I’m mad at you!” The teen half shouted, pointing an accusing hand at the other. Steel eyes softened.

“I’m sorry, Ichigo-kun.”

“You damn better be!” The boy continued to gripe, eyes not meeting his.

“I’m sorry.” And this time, the teen did notice something was off. The shopkeeper’s face was half obscured by his hair –goddamn it why was there so many things always blocking his face? – but still Ichigo could pick up the guilt carved on his face.

“Oi, what’s wrong?” He felt that he had to ask. The shopkeeper bowed to him, freaking him out further. The gesture was flawless and over-the-top, as the older man bowed from his waist down, back ramrod straight.

“I’m sorry for not helping you.” The teen stared, taken by surprise before rubbing a hand across his face. He began to walk forward.

“Hah, stop that, it’s embarrassing seeing you like that. And it’s not like I-er I wanted help.” He said, still feeling embarrassed at having being discovered. The ex-captain looked up, a sliver of anger startling him.

“How can you say that? Someone crying like that…how can they not want help?”

“Oi, it’s true.” The other grumbled, adding, “I just wanted a let out, not anyone to help me. And if you have indeed been stalking me since then, you should have noticed that I went there to be alone.”

“Ichigo-kun…you…you needed someone to talk to. To console you. And I just cowardly hid there, listening to you cry, unable to do anything…”

“You gave me back the paper flower.” Ichigo cut in softly. He was standing a scant foot away from him. Kisuke rose from his bow slowly, still not meeting his eyes. “It had been the last thing my mother had done with me. And uh…I didn’t realize it was you, but I always felt that there was someone there. A steady presence that didn’t blame me for my mother’s death…it actually helped. Heck, that why I always returned there. So don’t beat yourself over this, Kisuke.”

“Ah, you’re so nice to me, much more than I deserve.” The blond man said with a failure of a smile. Ichigo’s eyebrow twitched.

“Hadou number four: Byakurai.” Gray eyes widened as he barely evaded the blast of blue lightning that burst out of his palm. He looked back at the teen to find him leveling his sword at him. “Shut up and fight. That was an awful evasion.”

“So rude! I wasn’t expecting you to use Kidou on me!” The blond said in token protest as he initiated Shikai.

“See? I’m right. You’re really out of it today.” The teen said, relaxing his stance, propping Zangetsu up on his shoulder. Oh, he’d regret that.

“Sokatsui.” The shopkeeper muttered darkly and darted forward, arriving at the teen almost at the same time as his shot of fire. As Ichigo merely jumped sideways to avoid the Kidou spell, he missed the blade darting at his side. When he realized his mistake, he barely had time jump backwards, realizing that blocking with Zangetsu would take much longer. Still, Benihime cut a clean line on the orangehead’s shihakusho.

“Someone is taking me too lightly today I see.” Kisuke merrily said as he jumped back. The orangehead cursed, even as a challenge ignited in his eyes.

“You actually deserve that!” Ichigo said with a raised eyebrow, ignoring the other’s indignation. He put both hands on his blade as his reiatsu surged forward. “Now that we both know about all of my embarrassing excursions to that site, I want my answers, what were _you_ doing there? You can see it as a form of atonement if you like.” Kisuke’s ‘I’d rather not answer.’ died at that last statement.

“Hey, you’re guilt-tripping me!” He said more of a token protest than anything.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Sing, Benihime.” Kisuke said, a glint entering grey eyes, making the other yelp. He quickly jumped forward, Benihime’s attack still happening, and kicked the shorter male off his feet. He avoided a panicked Getsuga Tensho as he pinned the teen down, blade pressed against the other’s neck.

In the standstill, for a moment the only noise was of Ichigo panting to regain his breath. They stared at each other, faces close as Kisuke towered over him.

“Tch. Yield.” The teen eventually said with a pout. Kisuke relaxed, and it finally came to his attention the fact that Ichigo still had his hat clasped in one hand.

“What do you take me for, you brat? Fighting me with a single usable hand?” He joked, making the other scowl at him.

“Hey I didn’t decide that.” The teen’s eyes widened though, when he saw up close how Kisuke’s face softened, and gained an edge of sadness. “Kisuke-san?”

“For your information, I was indeed just out on a walk. I ended there without me noticing. And…today’s the anniversary of when we were exiled from Soul Society. That’s it, nothing serious.” Kisuke finally found it in himself to answer, still feeling odd at mentioning any of this out loud.

“…” Kisuke recomposed his inscrutable face as Ichigo gaped at him. Then, “Kisuke-san, I’m sorry.”

“Eh, what for? That was centuries ago. I’d rather you apologize for having gone easy on me.” He grinned at him and Ichigo fumed.

“I’m not apologizing for that. That’s what you get for stalking me.” He said, it was more of a pout than an actual argument though. And when the other’s face started to turn apologetic again, Ichigo strained his neck to bump his forehead against the other, not minding that Benihime cut into him slightly.

With a small cry of dismay, the shopkeeper was quick to remove the blade as he stepped back, falling flat on his bottom. That toppled with the alarmed look on the other and his still red forehead sent Ichigo into a laughing fit, falling back on his back.

 “I see you’re in a good mood, _Kurosaki-san.”_ This managed to get the laughing teen’s attention long enough that Kisuke could push him upright to heal the gash.

“Hey, no fair calling me that. We made a deal.” The Kurosaki teen said, traces of laughter still curving his lips.

“Hmm, I don’t make deals with brats.”

“Tch. Bastard.” Ichigo muttered, trying not to move much as to not disturb the healing. “Oi, ever going to teach me that? It’s Kidou as well, right?”

“Eh? Yes, it’s a variation called Kaido. Some might say that it’s easier because it does not require incantation, but I’d say it’s the other way around. It requires a complete control over one’s reiatsu. Meaning,” Kisuke paused to smile at him, hands no longer glowing green and slapped his hand against the healed area, startling him. “That you’re not quite ready yet. Besides the reiatsu control –and that’s hard by itself– there’s also the fact that you must manipulate both your patient and your own reiatsu to heal the body. So, double and perfect control of reiatsu I’d say.”

“Guess I’ll never be doing that.”

“Well, you surprised me when you did Byakurai without incantation. You couldn’t do that last time!” Kisuke half reprimanded, before continuing. “Anyway, your growth rate is impressive so, a few more months and maybe you’ll start to comprehend the basics for Kaido.”

“So long! I think I’d rather keep someone from the Fourth nearby.” Ichigo paused when Kisuke tried to suppress a smile and he frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing at all.” And Kisuke smiled his enigmatic smile and that was it.  Ichigo wanted to continue to argue about it, but at seeing the other’s same as usual face, he let himself smile again.

“I’m glad you’re back to normal.”

“Eh?” Kisuke’s composure broke yet again, his smile fading as all Ichigo did was lift a hand to ruffle his hair. He was too confused to properly acknowledge the feeling the gesture evoked. “Ichigo-kun?”

“You seemed depressed. I know why now, so I’ll be better prepared next time.”

“Next-? What?” The unfathomable genius got stuck on his words, his mind ringing alarms that said that a secret had been uncovered. The blond ignored that in favor of understanding what was going on— he was so distracted he didn’t notice that Ichigo had yet to retrieve his hand.

“Well, seeing how well you seem to cope on the nth anniversary since then…” Ichigo sarcastically said with a shrug of his shoulders, “Looks like next year I’ll have to beat some sense into you, once more.” And here he patted the shopkeeper as if he were a dog. Kisuke couldn’t even bat away the offending hand in his astonishment.

“Why?” He managed to mutter in what must be his most pitiful, ridiculous voice, yet the teen didn’t scorn or point it out to him.

“Huh, let’s see. Because I want to, I can, and you can’t do anything about it.” Ichigo deadpanned, listing the “reasons” with help of his fingers. His face softened seeing the former captain’s flabbergasted expression, clearly not knowing what to do or say.

“You can’t-“He tried in the same weak voice from before. The Vizard got up, dusted his clothes and then extended a hand to help him up.

“Why not? I’m not going to let you suffer this burden alone.”

“You don’t have to either.” Kisuke finally managed to frown. Ichigo followed suit. As his hand remained ignored, the teen instead grabbed Kisuke’s arm and pulled him upright as if he were a doll.

“I already told you. I want to and you can’t do anything about it.” And that was it. Kisuke knew that this teen would help him and he had absolutely no say in this.

Such a ridiculous notion.

 But before he could dwell on it, his mind slapped him with a reminder.

“Just promise me something.” If he had already lost the war, why not win some battles? Besides, if he asked like this, there was no way Ichigo would get out of accepting.

“Sure. What is it?” The teen was quick to sign his sentence. A definitively evil smirk curved the shopkeeper’s lips.

“Don’t ever return to that abandoned place. If you have to, come find me.”

“What!?”

Ah, sweet sweet vengeance.

* * *

 

“I see you beat some sense into that dickhead.” Ichigo spluttered in surprise, falling headfirst into the grass. He had been lazily lounging in the backyard of the Shoten before a short blonde had materialized herself right next to him.

 He had had gone back to the shop with Kisuke after their argument and he had been waiting while the sand blond man looked for something edible to eat.

 **“** Hiyori!? Just what-!?” The teen managed to get out in his surprise, just to get a stinky sandal to his face; Yowling, Ichigo clutched at his face in pain.

“So noisy! Shut up already! I just came to thank you, you stupid Strawberry!” The seemingly younger girl whispered loudly to the other, an accusing finger pointed at him.

“And again I ask, what the _fuck_ are you talking about!?” An incensed orangehead growled, still clutching at his red face.

“I’m talking about Urahara, you idiot!” Here the blonde paused, her face falling slightly; Ichigo sobered up, leaving his animosity aside. “This is the first time since we were banished that I’ve seen that stupid captain look even remotely sane on this day. Not even that dickhead Shinji gets like that anymore!”

“So, wait, you don’t hate him-?”

“Are you stupid? Of course I do! He’s still a good for nothing bum of a captain!” But before the snappy girl could throw in more words against her former captain both of them felt Kisuke approaching and Hiyori threw him a last “You should be thankful I came!” before she scampered off.

Ichigo just had time to sit up from his sprawled position when Kisuke made act of presence, holding a tray with hopefully snacks. The shopkeeper looked mildly surprised.

“Ichigo? Care to explain what just happened?”

“Tch, not much.” Ichigo said, trying to hand-wave the whole thing away. He looked back at him. “You found something to eat? I’m starving.”

The former captain sighed, even as he set the tray he was holding down. “Ichigo-kun…your face has a sandal footprint.”

“Shit. I’m so killing her!” Ichigo exclaimed, letting his indignation run free again. Great subtlety skills.

“I’m sorry. I should have been the one to receive her anger.” Kisuke muttered as he set the tray down before taking a seat by his side. The teen was quick to apply a chop to his head.

“Don’t you dare start! She didn’t come here for you, she-!” Here Ichigo paused as he stared into melancholic grey and sighed, a corner of his lip tilting into the beginning of a smirk. “No, never mind. If you want to find out, you’ll have to ask her.”

“Mou, Ichigo-kun, that’s not fair!”

“Shut up. It is.” And after a thoughtful pause, he added, “And tell me when you do, I’ll need to get my camera ready.”

“Ah, you’re so mean, Kurosaki-san!”

“And a first aid kit.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If everything goes as planned, this story only has 3-4 more chapters to go. Which is odd seeing as how I posted this not so long ago, in comparison to my other long-running fics.  
> Have you liked it so far?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plenty of h/c, Kisuke has a LOT of issues. Some cute scenes near the end. Before the foreboding lmao.

Tonight was raining.

Most people would be asleep by now, or at least indoors due to the downpour. Some unfortunate souls still had to go out in this weather but no one stayed out long. And yet, there was this insane teen who was gazing down at the river, without an umbrella or jacket to ward off the incessant rain.

 

Ichigo had gotten out of his house in a daze, walking the familiar path to the river bank where his mother had died. One would think that the teen was cold, having stayed out for so long but he didn’t even feel the rain drops on his skin.

He wiped the water off his face. Suddenly annoyed that he couldn’t keep his hair out of the way, nor he could see much with all the water pouring into his eyes, the boy finally decided to move.

He brushed some sloppy strands of hair out of his eyes, his muscles protesting the abuse as he stood up and began walking away. His back cracked, and his knees pulsed, but he ignored the pain. Instead, he began making his way to his Safe Place.

If he was going to be in this mood, it’d be better no one could see him. But even as he started the trek, he remembered that last time he had been tailed. Why not this time too? And now, Shinji would know to hide his reiatsu from him, just like Kisuke…

“ _Don’t ever return to that abandoned place. If you have to, come find me.”_

But…he wouldn’t be up at this hour, right? He would only be a bother and…What if he simply didn’t go to his (no longer) Safe Place? He wouldn’t be breaking his promise, would he? Ichigo furrowed his brow, deciding to return to the river bank to think, when he noticed it was no longer there. While he fought with himself, his traitorous feet had carried him to the Shoten. The teen fidgeted in place for a while longer, the blond’s soft spoken words replaying themselves over and over again in his mind.

He shivered and the orangehead seemed to notice for the first time that he was completely _alone_ in the dark night. So it was fear rather than determination what made him walk to the Shoten and open the door.

“Kisuke?” He called softly to the dark interior, his voice quickly drowned by the endless rain. He dared not enter; worried that he would be intruding. And that he most likely looked like a wet dog. He called again in a louder voice to no avail. Ichigo bit his lip worriedly and then a thought struck home.

What was he _doing_ here? Why was he bothering Kisuke?

Since when did he need to rely on someone else? To burden them?

Wincing, the Substitute Shinigami whirled around, ignoring the coldness in his entrails, of the falling rain as he prepared to confront the night and his nightmares, _alone_ -

 

“Ichigo-kun?”

 

The teen froze at hearing such a painfully familiar voice, not quite believing his ears. He looked over his shoulder and he could feel himself relaxing, just being able to see him.

But then, he remembered his nightmares, merging with his self-doubt to paint a sickening panorama.

 Eyes wide, the teen tried to correct his mistake by facing forward and preparing to run when he felt warm arms wrapping themselves around him. And suddenly, Kisuke was with him, holding him, hugging him. _Protecting him._

And for once, Ichigo couldn’t bring himself to care. He merely leaned back into the warmth that was Kisuke’s body, mouth open to mutter an apology.

 

“What are you doing out here, Ichigo-kun?” The shopkeeper asked in his soft voice, laced with no small amount of concern. But Ichigo, being so near to the other could feel the shopkeeper’s shivers as the rain and Ichigo himself soaked him wet.

“I’msosorryI’llbegoingnow!” The teen almost shouted, his body tensing, already fighting to separate himself from the other.

“Ichigo-kun, stop squirming,” Kisuke said, not budging an inch. Keeping Ichigo locked in his arms. Locked, _caged, trapped, just like when Aizen had-_

Kisuke froze when Ichigo’s reigned in reiatsu exploded for a heartbeat; almost drowning out his pitiful whimper. Kisuke was so surprised by both of these things that Ichigo managed to free himself from his grasp.

The teen tripped over himself, ready to disappear into the dark of the night, but Kisuke grabbed his hand, letting his reiatsu soothe him. “Ichigo-kun, calm down. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. I’m not going to harm you.”

Ichigo’s eyes were wide and scared, staring at Kisuke but not seeing him there. Kisuke just let his reiatsu do all the talking, making sure not to smother him and slowly recognition began seeping in his brown eyes. He let his shoulders sag, his hand going slack in his grasp.

He frowned, still seeping distress from his every pore. “Is that you, Kisuke?”

“Yes, Ichigo-kun. It’s me. And I’m here to tell you that everything’s alright. You’re perfectly safe here.”

 

The teen raised a hand to rub over his face, looking more exhausted than any fifteen-year-old teenager should. “Right, of course I am. That was…” He trailed off, a mocking smile appearing briefly under his hand. “Damn it, I’m so sorry Getaboushi. I don’t know what came over me. I’m leaving now you can…” He trailed off, shoulders hunching without his control and Kisuke didn’t think as he pulled the boy closer for a hug.

The boy froze, despite Kisuke’s best attempts at being non-threatening, but slowly Ichigo relaxed in his grasp, pressing his cold forehead against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, so low that it almost got drowned out by the rain. “I really am.”

Even though he was relaxing, he was still trembling with something other than cold.

 

Kisuke had one hand wrapped around the slightly shorter male and the other one was softly caressing his bright colored hair. “It’s alright, Ichigo-kun. It’s alright. Don’t apologize. Thank you for coming for me.” He blinked, feeling the ice-cold raindrops falling from his lashes, feeling hands desperately clutching at his sleeping robe.

He was a bit uncomfortable under the cold rain, but he had to wonder exactly how long this teen had been out. The boy was colder than the rain itself, not warming up even with Kisuke wrapped around him.

“Ichigo, what do you say we get out of the rain? You’ll catch a cold like this.” Never mind a cold, at this point he’d worry first for hypothermia. The teen in his arms nodded weakly as all response, not lifting his head from his shoulder.

Kisuke sighed before separating from him little by little, making sure to always keep a minimum of physical contact between the two.

 

With an arm wrapped around his shoulders, Kurosaki Ichigo was led into the Shoten.

* * *

Once safely out of the relentless weather, the shopkeeper blinked away more annoying water, before he patted the other one in the shoulder to see if he got a reaction.

The boy jumped in place before mumbling yet another apology.

“Don’t be, there’s no reason for you to be sorry.” Kisuke had returned to threading soft orange, finally feeling the teen relax the smallest bit. “Why were you out in such weather?”

A cold nose brushed against his neck, as the teen tensed up again. Kisuke could feel himself sadden in empathy towards the bundle of frayed nerves he was currently cradling. “Don’t you want to change out of those wet clothes?” He tried again, yet it still was the wrong thing to say.

“Sorry. Please…just…sorry.” The hands gripping his clothes tightened in their hold, almost pinching his skin. Kisuke then just decided to wait the teen out as he started to hum in place. He combed Ichigo’s sloppy hair, and sent out another wave of calming reiatsu which did help this time. Soon enough, the teen started breathing out more calmly, hands relaxing and posture deflating in general.

“Are you feeling better?” He queried softly after a while and he felt another wordless assent, and he tried to separate himself to eye his face.

“I’m sorry.” The teen repeated like a broken record, and Kisuke once again gripped his icy hand in a show of comfort.

“What for?” He finally felt as if it was alright to ask. The teen looked down, as he made a vague gesture with his free hand.

“This. The rain. The hour. Me.” He said in broken sentences. Kisuke sighed softly; it was to be expected, honestly.

“Ichigo, neither the rain nor the hour nor you are any problem at all. Please stop apologizing.” The blond said, caressing a tense jawline to see if it would relax. Ochre eyes looked him up and down, worrying his lip in the process.

“Aren’t you cold?” Kisuke felt relieved at that, it was the first full sentence he had heard the other utter.

“I should be the one asking that. How long have you been out?”

“Don’t know.” Ichigo said with a small shrug of shoulders, a shadow crossing his face as he checked the other once again. “Kisuke…you…you aren’t hurt, are you?”

“…No, I am not hurt, why do you ask?” The blond was concerned again, what was this about?

…Maybe the teen had had a bad dream? He squeezed the hand he held softly, to encourage the other to speak.

“It’s silly really. I…just…I had a dream.” The teen finally confessed, confirming the shopkeeper’s suspicions. “Aizen… Aizen was there. Gloating like always. But then he…” Ichigo trailed off, the scare wearing off and embarrassment replacing it quickly. “God, I must sound like a kid to you. I-I… I better head home now. Uh, I’m sorry-?” The carrot top had quickly ducked his head, already darting away, but Kisuke hadn’t let go of his hand.

“No can do, Ichigo.” The man had said sternly, already pulling the teen deeper into the shop. Where were the towels kept again?

And so, the shopkeeper ended up leading the still distraught teen —he was clearly not alright yet, he wasn’t going to let him go like that— to the bathroom so he could throw a couple towels over the teen. Ichigo was thankful as he had begun to shiver in earnest now that he finally seemed to realize just how cold he was. Kisuke grabbed yet another towel and proceeded to dry the younger male’s hair.

“So, what about that change of clothes?” He asked, feeling the teen’s shiver begin to die down, and this time the teen dipped his head in acceptance.

 

* * *

 

Kisuke had finished donning his usual green kimono when the door of his room opened and a much calmer Ichigo entered sporting a white sleeping robe that fit him a size too big. The blond man suppressed a smile as he told the teen to accompany him to the kitchen where he started preparing tea. He turned around while the water boiled and he smiled at the embarrassed teen.

“Sorry.” The teen muttered again, and the shopkeeper bonked him over the head. “Wha-?”

“I told you to stop apologizing. It’s alright. I’m actually really glad you came here.” Kisuke told the flushing teen with a fond smile. Trying to distract the teen —and because he couldn’t simply _not_ say anything about it— he commented on how the clothes were a little big for him and smirked at the blushing reply.

“Sh-shut up! You were the one who gave these to me anyway!”

“I guess you’re right. Doesn’t make you any less cute though!” He stated cheerfully, making the other choke. The strawberry teen avoided his eyes as he purposely rolled up his sleeves as to minimize the effect. Kisuke pouted at seeing that it was a success. But he quickly had to put his attention on the stove as the teapot started whistling.

Placing a steaming cup of tea in front of the carrot top, he turned around to pour himself when he heard the whispered, “I had a dream about the war.”

Kisuke finished pouring the tea and setting the kettle down, doing his utmost best not to interrupt the teen, even as he could feel his mood sour.

“I was…Everything seemed normal enough,” Ichigo said, in quick run-on sentences. As if gathering the courage to confess, “but then I went to confront Aizen but he… he fled and I gave chase. And the bastard started killing my friends… he slit your throat, by the way. And when apparently everyone was dead, I got a sword through me. I kinda had a freak out there.”

“No wonder.” The shopkeeper managed to say in a strained voice. Ichigo noticed his tension, and his features dropped.

“Yeah. I…But don’t worry, when the war does arrive, I’ll be ready.” The teen said, his smile and scowl mingling in his face “I won’t run away from Aizen, so don’t turn me away just yet. I will beat him-“

“ _What?_ ” The shopkeeper interrupted, something getting caught in his gut at those words. “Turn you away? Why would anyone do such a thing?”

Ichigo blinked in surprised again as he excused, “Well, because I’m not strong enough yet?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Kisuke almost exploded, hating the honest confusion on the other. He let go of his tea lest he crushed it and ran a frustrated hand through his hair, pinning the other with a glare. “Your worth is not measured by your strength, Ichigo-kun! Do you think that’s the whole reason I spend time with you? Because you’re strong?”

Ichigo looked away, and in his mind a little voice mumbled, _yes, it was the reason in the beginning._

“If that had been the only reason,” Kisuke continued, voice on the verge of cracking as all his guilt began escaping his air-locked vault. “I would have trained you and sent you away. I wouldn't have bothered talking with you, hearing about your adventures, your problems, hearing about you.”

_It would have been so much easier, to not care about you._

“Ichigo-kun,” Kisuke said, feeling the words and confessions wanting to tumble out of his lips. “You are the single person with the greatest potential for growth. You have become our hope in defeating Aizen, yes. But never, for even one second, doubt that we care about you.”

_But at the same time, you can’t refuse to battle Aizen. That has been the plan all along, that has been our purpose._

And Kisuke had come to know the boy well enough to know that Ichigo would not refuse them. Would not back down.

Kisuke had done a brilliant job with his plan.

So why did it hurt so much to see him not protesting–never protesting, never ever complaining about his lot in life. About his involvement in a war that wasn’t his own?

Even if he wouldn’t do anything to make him turn away, it still hurt to see him not even try.

 

He felt his fists clenching. He lowered his gaze, letting his hair shade his eyes. He was so pathetic. What was guilt even good for this far down the line?

Ichigo had been raised a sacrificial lamb and he had helped in it. He didn’t deserve to feel sorry for him.

 

As his thoughts continued spiraling, he was abruptly pulled away when a warm hand pressed against his. Kisuke inhaled sharply and was almost surprised at seeing Ichigo reaching out for him, a worried expression on his face. Their eyes met.

“Thank you,” Ichigo said in a quiet whisper, actual relief carved in the creases of his face. “Thank you for saying that. But it’s not all just because I know I’m your safest bet. I do have a personal debt to settle with the madman.” His eyes were old, older than they had any right to be. And for all that Ichigo was trying to reason this out, Kisuke knew it was nothing but a farce. “He kidnapped Inoue, remember? He hurt Rukia. He fucked over all of my Vizards.”

Coincidences. Mishaps. Nothing of this would have happened had Kisuke not chosen to groom this boy into the perfect weapon for Aizen.

Ichigo continued, not knowing everything that was going through Kisuke’s mind. To feel the acrid taste of guilt building up in his stomach. “And what kind of person would I be not to lend my strength to Soul Society when I know that I could be a deciding asset in this war?”

That was almost too much for Kisuke.

“A sane one, Ichigo-kun.” He mumbled in a broken voice. He was staring at his hands again. How much happier would Ichigo have been had he not been dragged into otherworldly affairs? “A happier one as well.”

“No,” Ichigo softly denied. “I’d be a coward.”

“You’ll never be a coward.” Kisuke huffed humorlessly, he knew who the coward was in this room and it was him. But no, if he was still going to let Ichigo go to war, to fight their own war, he would _at least_ not act like a coward in front of him.

Yoruichi was right. If Ichigo had found comfort in him, Kisuke would not be the reason he couldn’t find it.

He smiled at him.

It broke his heart to see the relief grow when Ichigo noticed it.

But at the same time, a steel conviction settled.

No, he was done playing puppet-master behinds the scenes. He was done hiding behind his guilt and perceived impotence.

 

“No, you are the bravest man I have ever known,” he told him, picking up the surprise and delight on the teen’s face. “And since I know I won’t be able to deter you, I’ll let you know that I too have things to settle with that bastard. You won’t fight alone, this I promise.”

Strangely enough, a sardonically amused grin lifted a corner of Ichigo’s lips. “Thanks.” He simply said, yet there was an air about him that said that he didn’t believe him. As if he knew something Kisuke didn’t. A sense of foreboding settled itself snuggly against Kisuke’s back.

Kisuke then could only promise himself that when the war came, Ichigo would not have to fight alone. It was the least he could do.

(In the meantime, they weathered the night together, hands touching and letting the silence rule over them.)

 

* * *

 

The following days, a certain candy shop had a recurrent visitor, who despite him not buying anything, was always a glad sight for the owner.

 

“Ah! Ichigo-kun, hello, hello!” Kisuke cheerfully greeted the scowling teen as he marched his way up to the store. The carrot top’s scowl eased the smallest bit at seeing the shopkeeper and he waved a lazy hand in his direction.

“What can I do for you, this fine morning?”

The teen snorted before pulling out a bill. “Got anything not past its expiration date?”

“Your insinuations wound me, Ichigo-kun!” Kisuke feigned offense, pressing a hand to his chest, making Ichigo laugh despite himself.

“Oh really?” Ichigo waved the money bill in the air as a reminder. “So?”

“…I’ll have to look.” The shopkeeper grumpily conceded with what could be considered a pout, exchanging one dramatic act for the next.

“Aw, is Kisuke sulking?” The teen mocked him, ignoring the indignant huff he received and went with the walking symbol of injured pride towards the interior of the shop.

In the end Ichigo bought three strawberry flavored lollypops —Kisuke still thought that the punch on the gut had been completely undeserved— and nervously shifted in place before Kisuke finally invited him to stay for lunch. They just lounged at the porch overlooking the backyard with a cup of tea and some sweet bean treats Tessai brought to the lazy pair.

The next day, Ichigo told him the girls had been happy at the small gift and he thanked Kisuke for them. After that he asked for a spar. Kisuke actually had to activate his Shikai sooner than he would have thought necessary, but he was glad; Ichigo was getting stronger.

He culled Benihime’s aura as best as he could, but Ichigo just smirked at him before calling out his hollow mask and Kisuke’s hold on the Princess’s bloodlust was lost. Ichigo didn’t seem to care much.

 

* * *

 

Another day, Kisuke was busy with exchanging intel and arranging for the battle strategies with Akon, over the phone. And so, Ichigo spent the day with Tessai, working on his embarrassing levels of Kidou. Yes, he could do Byakurai without incantation, but he was slow at learning anything of Kidou.

 

* * *

Kisuke blinked surprised at seeing Ichigo arrive in his spirit form. He usually arrived as a human and dumped his body somewhere for the spars.

“I caught a cold. But fortunately it didn’t extend to my shinigami form.” Ichigo had said as ways of explanation before he was quickly ushered inside by the blond man. “…Kisuke? Something-?”

“Shh! Whatever you do, don’t let Tessai hear you’re sick!” The shopkeeper whispered as his head darted from side to side, making sure the aforementioned man wasn’t about to show up.

“Wha-?”

“Kurosaki-dono, I have some very good medicine for colds. Would you like to try some?” A grave voice said from their side as the imposing figure of Tessai sprung up from nowhere.

Kisuke did _not_ yelp… He did not!

 

 

* * *

 

“I didn’t know we had gone this far in History…” Ichigo mumbled to himself as he copied down the notes he had borrowed from Mizuiro. Kisuke was working on Yoruichi’s new weaponry. He knew that the woman would refuse to fight with her zanpakuto (and she had probably dulled her swordsmanship) so he was working on _something_ to protect her limbs.

 

* * *

 

It was just another day, after having Ichigo over for yet another adrenaline-ridden spar.

“Do you think I’m ready?” Ichigo asked, sitting down with Zangetsu across his dust-covered legs. Kisuke had just finished healing the both of them and was busy cleaning Benihime so she wouldn’t get mad afterward.

Kisuke looked at him in silence, not ever asking what he was talking about. It was pretty obvious.

“Well,” Kisuke began, licking his lips. “I believe that working together as a team, with soul society covering us for whatever army Aizen decides to bring, we do have a chance at beating Aizen, yes.”

Ichigo gave him a very indulgent look that immediately rubbed Kisuke the wrong way. “Yes, that’s fine and all but, what I’m asking is do you think _I_ am strong enough? For say, a face-off against him? Or what points could I strengthen?”

Kisuke stopped in his motions. He got rid of the excess oil, letting her shine against the fake sun before sheathing her. Once again using her as a cane, Kisuke finally turned to him. “This is probably very late,” he began in a conversational tone. “But, why are you so insistent on beating Aizen?”

“I thought we had already talked this over, Getaboushi.” Ichigo shot back with shrewd eyes. “For starters, why the fuck are you making it sound as if we don’t have to deal with the bastard?”

“I told you already. I won’t let you fight alone. And besides, we will receive company soon, as you well know. The Gotei Thirteen-“

“Is an organization incapable of tying their own shoelaces without help. I’m not-“

“They are strong, Ichigo-kun. That was what I wanted to say. They have had centuries of training and experience and-“

“I defeated half of them when we went to rescue Rukia. You yourself said it. I’m strong. And I’m lucky. I am powerful enough and lucky enough to deal with Aizen.”

“You don’t have to be a hero!” Kisuke finally snapped, his voice like a whip breaking the mounting tension of their argument. That made Ichigo pause and stare at him with arched eyebrows and a cynic smile.

“…You of all people don’t have the right to say that to me.”

And with those curt words, the teen left the shop in a flit of shunpo.

 

 

* * *

 

This time Kisuke didn’t have much time to wallow in self-hatred and guilt. Regardless of all personal feelings, the war was coming, and they needed to continue preparations. So while he pondered what he could do to fix yet another of his mistakes, the vanguard forces were deployed from Soul Society and he was tasked with looking out for them.

He sold them their gear and gigais, offered them places to stay, subtly led Rangiku away to protect Inoue, Hitsugaya in tow. Ikkaku was easier to convince than Renji and so he went over to Ichigo’s human friends for a place to stay. That narrowed down possible hostages on Ichigo’s side.

 

* * *

“Ah, Sado-kun, welcome, welcome, Renji is already downstairs. He told me you would be coming!” Kisuke cheerfully greeted the remaining possible-hostage. He had tried coaxing the stoic teen into the Shoten, under the pretense that he could train with Renji even though Kisuke rather doubted Sado would actually get to fight.

He stared at his back, feeling the conviction he irradiated. He wasn’t strong enough or skilled enough.

There would be enough fodder with the Gotei’s children, he didn’t see any reason to add more.

 

“Kisuke.”

 

A voice snapped him out of his morbid thoughts faster than a whip would, almost snapping his neck with the speed he turned with.

How had he been so distracted as to let someone sneak up on him?

Then the figure standing in front of him computed in his brain and he took a couple steps back.

“Ichigo-kun? What-“

“Uh, I kinda came to apologize. Sorry. See you later.” The teen bowed clumsily, not looking him in the eye as he made to go away. Kisuke was flabbergasted for a second before he composed himself.

“But what in name of Soul Society are you apologizing for?” Kisuke asked, successfully stopping Ichigo on his retreat. The teen wasn’t looking at him. “Ichigo-kun?”

“For what I said. The other day. ‘s fine if you don’t remember though…”

“Ichigo-kun.” The steel eyed man stopped him with a stern tone. The aforementioned teen looked at him on instinct, and blinked in surprise at seeing the ever-laid back man frowning. “Don’t apologize for that. You merely laid the blame where blame was due.”

Ichigo scowled as he stalked towards him again, a finger pointed at the shopkeeper. “Oh, no you’re not going to get all gloomy on me!”

“I-what? Ichigo-kun!” The shopkeeper indignantly exclaimed. This was amusing enough that Ichigo had to fight to hide a grin as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Beat it geezer.” He stated, posture firm and seemingly ready to forgive him. Even if he didn’t deserve it, Kisuke could at least play along if that could ease the line of tension and the jittery hands of the teen.

“G-geezer? Me? The most handsome candy-seller of Karakura?!” Kisuke haughtily said, making the ever scowling teen snort good-naturedly at him. The shopkeeper relished in that fact before turning serious. “You’re not wriggling out of this though.” He was silent for a moment. And then, in a move more than uncharacteristic, he relented part of the truth.

“Ichigo-kun,” he said, eyes staring at the ground. “I apologize for having used your feelings to-“

“To what?” Ichigo interrupted him, abruptly enough that Kisuke flinched. “To save Rukia? I dare you to try and apologize for that.”

 

His words are confusing enough that they manage to make Kisuke look back up, if only to corroborate who had spoken.

(To be completely fair, the ex-captain thought that the teen’s arched eyebrow was unwarranted, although a fair enough emulation of Byakuya.)

“Don’t phrase it like that.” He could only mutter, hating how this teen seemed to think that his feelings of guilt were undeserved.

“Why not? Because it’s messes with your self-guilt, huh?” The teen snarkily replied and Kisuke went slack-jawed as always never quite expecting Ichigo to be so blatant and open and _shrewd_. After a prolonged silence, the carrot top scoffed and continued. “Anyway, you already apologized to me after all that, so…let’s just let this go?”

This was wrong.

“How can you forgive so easily? Trust so much?” The tired shopkeeper asked, not really expecting an answer.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Ichigo replied anyway. “Rukia’s alive as well. _Inoue_ is alive thanks to you, actually. Can’t really get mad at you for that. Also, I know that in your own messed up way…you really wanted to help me.”

Kisuke was once again, left without words.

(And still, he couldn’t bring himself to disclose the cost he would have to pay to defeat Aizen.)

 

* * *

“Kisuke, is sparring all you do with Ichigo? Have you ever considered teaching him strategy and the like?” Yoruichi in her cat form inquired as they lazily lounged in the shop. The semi-drunk shopkeeper waved a hand dismissively.

“He has never learned that way. Up until now, the kid has been learning on the go –he’s such a battle genius, honestly– and that’s how I’ve taught him. I force him to think on his feet so to speak.”

“The kid can do that alright, but battle tactics and contingency planning can’t be taught with a sword…” The noble woman –cat? – insisted, her golden eyes hazy but locked on his.

“True. That’s why he’s always complaining whenever we take a break.” Kisuke grinned, goofy and drunk, and the catwoman rolled her eyes, it was to be expected honestly.

Kisuke’s smile relaxed but didn’t leave his face as he turned pensive. “But his mind does catch on what I say. He has a battle-honed mind, borne out of experience in the battlefield, which he isn’t fully aware of. That’s why most of the time he has to receive a beating in order to understand his opponent. What I’m aiming for is that Ichigo-kun will be able to tap into his source of knowledge at will.”

“Ho? You have Ichigo-chan very well figured-out. And to be honest I don’t think the kid would be happy with being lectured instead of fighting. He’s a muscle-brain as well.”

 “I must say that getting him to sit through a lesson of planning… it doesn’t bode well…for the teacher that is. Maybe we should get Aizen to monologue on plans for supply lines!”

“I bet he’d be willing to. God knows he loves listening to his own voice!” Yoruichi’s laughter joined Kisuke’s as the meager seriousness finally vanished into their drunken laughter.

“Do you- do you think that if we got a big enough audience and speakers… we could postpone the war by asking Aizen to- to tell us his autobiography?”

The laughed loudly and raucously, in such a manner that nobody would have believe them to have lead the covert ops, or the detention unit back in Soul Society.

 

 “Uh… Sorry for interrupting.” The drunken duo looked up at the same time to see an awkward-looking Ichigo standing at the door. The laughter died down as Kisuke blinked repeatedly to clear his mind a little, trying to say something coherent. Yoruichi was a bit quicker than him.

“Oh, Ichigo, you’re early! Come with me. It’s my turn to beat you to a pulp!” The black cat told the teen as she sauntered off to the basement training area. Ichigo taken by surprise looked between the two of them before annoyingly following the cat-woman.

“You’re not beating me to a pulp, you cat!”

“Let’s see how well you can keep up with me without your bankai, then!” Kisuke heard Yoruichi cackle.

“ _What?_ Are you crazy-!? Wait a moment you’re drunk-!” And the pale blond chuckled at hearing the dismay in the other’s voice before their voices faded.

 

* * *

“Hey, uh, thanks.”

Kisuke blinked as he looked at his sort-of-student-now in surprise. They had had a hard training day that had left both of them without energy –much to Kisuke’s chagrin; had he really gotten that rusty? – and they were merely regaining their breaths as Kisuke healed the worse of their injuries. Which didn’t explain at all why Ichigo had said that.

“Whatever for?” The straw blond inquired, as the teen leaned back on his hands with a groan.

“For training me, I guess. I just kinda came here without asking so… just, thanks.” Giving up on getting comfortable, the teen flopped on his back with another groan and a small wince.

“None needed, Ichigo-kun. It is my pleasure to help. And I must say these workouts have helped me as well.”

“Glad to know. Oh, by the way,” Ichigo’s head shot up from his sprawled position (possibly putting too much strain on his neck) as the question occurred to him. “Have you been curbing your zanpakuto’s…bloodlust?”

“Not much. I _am_ trying to make you stronger after all. Why do you ask?” A tinge of wariness had colored his voice as he began trying to find a reason for this inquiry. To his exacerbation, the carrot top’s features softened with glad surprise before he let his head fall down, hiding his face from the shopkeeper.

“I see.”

“Ichigo-kun?”

“Just curious.”

That certainly didn’t answer any of his questions. Kisuke passed a hand through his stubble in thought. Had perhaps the teen caught something about Kisuke? If he remembered correctly, the teen had an unusual knack for feeling what a wielder felt through their blades…

But what possibly could Ichigo have felt with just a diminished bloodlust?

 

“Kisuke?” A more somber tone of voice successfully snapped him out of his fruitless endeavor.

“Yes, Ichigo-kun?”

“D’ya think… I’m prepared?”

Despite having heard and answered this question previously, there was just a hint of desperation in his voice that Kisuke didn’t know how to soothe.

Instead, the man reassured the teen before embarking into another hypothetical situation where he could only use Kidou. He made the teen tell him which spell he’d use and why as he healed every single sparring injury on him. As Ichigo snarled an annoyed reply he missed the melancholic smile Kisuke gave him.

_‘Please, please let him be ready.’_

 

* * *

Finally, Winter began.

And as the chill seeped into their bodies, a certain feel of anxiousness entered their minds.

Soon, the war would begin.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An entire "war" and the recovery in 7k. Also heck of a lot of suffering and guilt.

It was just a regular winter day when it began.

It was a Saturday morning, with the sun high in the sky, when the heavens darkened and broke apart, letting the rotten seep in.

 

The Vizard and the Shinigami deployed to Karakura mobilized.

The Vizards, more used to the layouts of the fake town, were scattered in a loose circle, protecting the pillars that held the fake town in place.

Kisuke had been ordered to build them, to protect Karakura and her population as much as possible, transferring it over to Soul Society in a tricky piece of kidou he was proud of. He hadn’t minded it much, especially not when Ichigo had gotten angry on his behalf again. Not when hope had lighted up his eyes at the prospective of sparing his family and friends of the war in its entirety.

Kisuke covered his face briefly as he remembered.

And he’d paid the child back by not saying anything as Isshin revealed himself in his Shinigami attire. Remaining calm and blind the panicked child, asking, begging for an explanation Isshin still didn’t seem fit to give. His only words to the betrayed soul were to inform him that they were going away to train for Mugetsu.

Isshin gave Ichigo –his son, Kisuke’s _student–_ some time alone to recover, and Kisuke didn’t have the sense of leaving as well. So instead, he did what he knew best and took the coward’s route. He pretended was busy checking over the security measures, unable and unwilling to match the desperate look on his pupil’s face.

Ichigo, the hero-complexed boy, groomed into self-sacrifice, just spent five more minutes trying to calm himself down. Then he squared his shoulders and began walking towards his own execution.

(Had they stolen his free will on top of everything else?)

“Ichigo,” Kisuke found himself saying, barely choking on his words. The boy in front of him halted. There’s a million things he wanted to say, a million of things he needed to apologize for. But all he could say was, “I’ll meet you on the battlefield. I promised you wouldn’t be fighting alone.”

Ichigo had the gall to smile.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo disappeared then, and Kisuke knew he was reuniting with his father.

The hordes of enemies pouring in from the cracks in the sky was daunting but it was nothing they couldn’t beat without him. Kisuke stayed behind, to make sure everything was in place, that the pillars would resist, that Aizen was not crossing over too soon.

He stared at his cameras dispersed throughout his laboratory in which he had sequestered himself to help the Shinigami, delivering reiatsu enhancers fresh off the workshop, letting everyone keep on top of things.

 The people deployed to the human world were Ichigo’s friends, and it showed in the ferocity of their attacks, in the unyielding tenacity of their defense.

Kisuke had helped, of course. He had directed the long-range attacks to be at the forefront, Matsumoto and Hitsugaya back to back as they kept up a whirlwind of ash and ice.

Hisagi, less experienced with his own blade stayed as second line of attack, using Kazeshini more as a blade and less as the hurricane of power it could be. A pity, but it was better than to risk him losing control over his power and hurting a friend in the process.

The wave of enemies seemed never ending, but between them, as well as Madarame, Ayasegawa, and a couple other lieutenants they kept the enemies at bay.

The Vizards too weren’t slacking off. They remained in their spots, knowing how much more valuable their presence was, and taking out enemies from a distance, if possible.

Kisuke worked fast, making sure never to take his attention off the cameras, off the time. There still was no sign of Aizen or the other two traitors, they still had time.

When his supplies ran out, having assembled enough kidou bombs and assorted artifacts and supplements to last a week, it is just in time for the switch.

Hitsugaya and the rest fall back, after twelve hours of intermittent fighting, letting the captains through.

Tall, imposing and strong, the rest of the captains that had been emergency-deployed barely a couple hours ago, continue to wreak havoc with their blades.

Kisuke joined.

And silently, quietly he began placing the threads of his trap. The delicate fibers of his hopes.

 

* * *

He beheaded an arrancar, and scanned his surroundings. He was quick on his feet, and yet time and time again he was surrounded, hordes of faceless enemies coming at him from all angles. It was likely that Aizen had instructed them of this, given that this viciousness was not present with the rest of his allies.

Kisuke smirked. Even now, Aizen feared him. That was always a nice sentiment.

 

Amidst blood and sweat, they receive the dawn of the second day with their blades in the air.

Kisuke fell back, the rested lieutenants taking over the captains, Hitsugaya and Matsumoto giving everyone a breather as their zanpakuto’s decimate the arrancar’s flanks.

Kisuke returned his attention to the cameras in the sky, already back in his labs, looking for any sign of Aizen. He was on edge, he knew the madman would want to make a great entrance, and diminish morale as much as possible. If he was willing to waste this many arrancars on the first day it could only mean he had enough to last.

He would appear once the nonstop assuage tired them.

Kisuke gave him three days.

Well…

He breathed in relief as a bigger senkaimon opened and in streamed several dozen Shinigami. Fresh and hopeful, they helped curb the onslaught and gave the First Responders some low time to recover, physically and mentally.

Like this they continue, fighting until their time is up, eating and getting healed and going back at it again.

The hollows didn’t seem to be slowing down. Sarugaki was almost sliced in two, and the pillar she had been protecting got destroyed.

Muguruma’s and Kuna’s also got partially destroyed, their enemies too powerful, and in a motion that spoke of a long retirement, and of bonds stronger than steel, he gave everything up when Kuna was knocked unconscious, and the unprotected pillar was attacked.

Some seated officers quickly rushed there to do damage control and take care of Kuna while Muguruma kept up his post.

Kisuke wondered if he’d have time to fix that pillar, seeing with some concern how parts of the real town had begun to phase in, as the ridiculously complicated kidou spell began coming apart with the destroyed pillars.

Maybe they wouldn’t have a week.

It would be best to defeat Aizen before that, but would Ichigo be ready?

If Isshin didn’t run out of strength, they would have a lot of time for Ichigo to master this technique. Even with the day they had spent outside the Dangai, as Isshin informed his son of the required steps, of the warnings, of the advice before he was too busy stopping the flow of time.

When Ichigo dropped back into the world of the Living, Kisuke had expected a maelstrom of reiatsu. A thunderwave, a suffocating tsunami.

In all truth, he didn’t even notice he was back, until he glanced at his cameras and saw the devastated landscape that had once harbored hundreds of lesser arrancars.

The small black dots that were the Shinigami were perplexed as well, scurrying to regroup and in the moment he wasted scanning the ravaged landscape in search for the culprit, Kisuke feared for their lives.

If it had been Aizen, he would need to tell Isshin and pray Ichigo would be ready.

But then the smoke cleared and he glimpsed a head of orange.

Kisuke dropped the nourishment pills in his hands as he dragged his tired self closer to the cameras.

It was him.

There was no mistaking. The tall, young man standing in the center of the blast was none other than Kurosaki Ichigo.

Kisuke sagged with relief.

Ichigo continued making quick work of the armies that had given them so much trouble. He was too fast, too strong and in no time, the young man was scaring off the remaining arrancars back to Hueco Mundo.

Word spread quickly, as the Shinigami began regrouping, rejoicing.

 

Kisuke really wanted to just seek the Kurosaki boy out for reasons he didn’t understand, but he had a job to do.

 

He shoved some more pills into his mouth as he gathered the equipment he’d need to restore the pillar. Now that Ichigo was back, it was only a matter of time for Aizen to show his ugly face. He wasn’t sure how big the collateral damage would be, but he’d rather assume the worst.

Tessai and Ushoda were already there, as if reading his mind. Kisuke quickly set the new structure of the pillar and between the three of them, they began rebuilding the first pillar.

 Kisuke was not too sure how much time was spent on it, but it was during the reconstruction of the second pillar that the entire fake town is engulfed in a dense wave of reiatsu.

It is strong enough that Kisuke felt like he was wading through something thicker than air.

He felt goosebumps covering his arms. That was a frightening notion.

Despite himself, the former captain of the Twelfth chanced a look back, stilling his motions for just a second. He was right, Aizen had just crossed over, in his all of his pompous glory, flanked by Ichimaru Gin and Tousen Kaname. Neither of the three made much of an attempt to join the fray, letting their remaining Espada crawl in behind them and await further instructions.

Kisuke caught sight of the oldest captains drawing their blades to clash with the traitors.

He had an idea of what was going on, but he was still almost knocked off his feet by the Captain Commander’s release.

Kisuke wasted a couple precious seconds admiring the engineering that the smallest arrancar had undergone to not only withstand Ryuujin Jakka’s flames, but to begin winning against it.

At the same time Barragan and the remaining Espada launched their own attacks against the people guarding the pillars – which of course, included Kisuke.

 

With two kidou masters, it fell on his hands to be the vanguard, feeling glad it was the weakest of the Espada– Tier Harribel.

Kisuke traded blows with the oddly calm Espada, giving the other two enough time to unleash several high-level kidous on her.

At the moment they cannot afford to keep her trapped in a spell, so Kisuke wasted just one second to see the progress of the main fight – Yamamoto had destroyed the engineered arrancar and was clashing with Aizen. Ichigo was still waiting.

What was he waiting for? Wouldn’t it be better for him to fight alongside the Captain Commander?

Unless it had been a fluke, Mugetsu had failed and he had lost his powers in exchange of brutal physical strength –which wouldn’t do shit to stop Aizen.

“ _Tencho!”_ He came back to reality in time to move out of the way of a blast of boiling-hot water as Harribel took on her Resurreción form.

Kisuke cursed under his breath.

_He didn’t have time for this!_

“Nake, Benihime!” He said and his princess screamed an explosion of red. The arrancar in front of him recoiled and sought higher grounds, sensing both his power and bloodlust.

“Tessai-san, Ushoda-san,” he said in a sing-song voice, twirling Benihime in his grasp. The blade hummed in the air. “Let’s get this over with quickly, shall we?”

 

 

* * *

Kisuke was sore and tired, his aches blossoming to life as he came back down from his battle high. No time, he had to leave. Tessai had also been injured, but Ushoda was fixing him up already. A blessing Kisuke didn’t have time to receive. As he sprinted away from the incinerated corpse of a great adversary without another thought, he could only think about the promise he had made.

As the waves of reiatsu crashed around them, changing the very landscape, Kisuke could only curse at himself. He had sworn he wouldn’t let Ichigo fight alone.

He cursed, his throat constraining as the sky darkened.

 _Mugetsu_ , a distant part of his mind recognized.

He quickened his step, guilt burning almost as fast as Benihime’s bloodlust.

He had sworn.

* * *

It was quick.

Over fifteen years of planning, of machinations, decades' worth of guilt, of regret.

It all coalesced and painted the entire world black.

 

* * *

 

By the time Kisuke finally got to Ichigo, the fight was almost over. Admist the fallen buildings, the deep craters and the bloody rubble, Ichigo and Aizen were both staring at each other, at a tense standstill.

Aizen was still not dead, but he was already coming apart, his mask shattered, his eyes wild. Kisuke could see that he had shrouded himself in every layer of kidou he had hidden across the grounds, blind to Kisuke’s cunning power. As he’d always been.

Kisuke allowed himself a slight twist of his lips.

 

In the insufferable silence, Aizen panted, lines of fury deforming his face even further. He outstretched his –tired, trembling– arms, but before he could command the Hogyouku to reinforce him again, Kisuke’s tricks managed to rear their head.

Like a blooming red spiderlily, Kisuke’s masterpiece came to light as it shot out from Aizen’s carapace.

“URAHARA KISUKE!” Aizen bellowed as he finally acknowledged him– as his impenetrable forces were rendered null. Even with a web of kidou breaking him apart from the inside, he still looked well enough to try stepping forward, his face almost unrecognizable at his point.

“Hello, Aizen-san.” Kisuke simply said, trying to keep the bone-deep exhaustion out of his voice. Not yet, this was not over yet. He needed to see this through.

More tendrils broke through Aizen’s body, his Hollow armor breaking apart completely, as the incomplete chrysalis began unraveling.

Aizen sneered, “why? When you possess such an intellect, do you not act?!” He screamed, enraged and somehow betrayed, Kisuke looked at him quizzically. “How can you stand to submit to that thing!?”

Nothing more than bleating words of a defeated man.

Yet…

“That thing?” Could it be? “Do you mean the Soul King?”

He looked back into demented eyes, begging to understand.

“The Soul King is the linchpin of life. If it’s lost…. Everything would collapse.” His voice grew louder, as he recited, as if from memory. “If the Soul King didn’t exist, Soul Society would crumble.”

“That’s a loser’s reasoning!” Aizen screamed as his body continued being ravaged with Kisuke’s spells. The words poured fast, as if he was desperate to let him hear it before the end. “A winner has to speak not of the world as it is, but as it should be!” His body was almost submerged, it wouldn’t take long.

“I WILL-!” He promised, staring at no one other than Kisuke, his arch nemesis, his executioner. His equal. Kisuke held his gaze.

“Good night, Aizen-san.”

And there was silence.

 

 

* * *

 

As he stared at the hybrid cross under which Aizen was finally sealed, Kisuke felt himself almost drop with exhaustion.

But.

The buzzing in his ears faded long enough to hear someone standing up, walking behind him.

Kisuke was overcome with the sudden need to sob.

He sighed, buried his guilt inside once more and turned around.

Old, old eyes met his gaze.

Fuck it all.

Kisuke stared and finally took in the tall man in front of him. Long shaggy hair reaching his shoulders, broad muscles tightening the fabric of his shihakusho in new ways, a testament the training he had undergone.

Even if he had helped in the end, by sealing Aizen away, he had failed the one promise he’d ever made.

He’d let Ichigo get hurt and fight completely alone against the crazy bastard.

Kisuke stared at the man in front of him, the man that had given it all and lost everything for a couple strangers and a war that wasn’t his to fight.

A willing pawn in the midst of a scheme too grand.

Just as planned.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo was the first to move, he rubbed his shoulder, giving him a half smile that felt like a stab to the heart.

How dare he show his face to this man? How dare Kisuke even try to talk to him?

As always the accusations swarmed his ears, but he didn’t pay them any mind.

“…Ichigo-kun.” The blond murmured, hands reaching for his inside pocket and pulling out his hat, a practiced move.

Ichigo gave him a look before moving heavily towards a shattered building, using it as a seat. His back was hunched. He looked even more exhausted than Kisuke felt.

How long had he spent training in the Dangai?

Had he known?

Had he known what he was heading towards?

The boy sighed, tired and sad. Not angry.

No, whatever this was, was not regarding his loss of powers, of soul. His betrayal.

(Kisuke wondered when would that emerge?)

He made his way over to him.

 

* * *

Kisuke had stood off by his side, but with just a tired head movement, Ichigo asked him to sit with him.

Kisuke complied.

They sat in silence, shoulder to shoulder before the blond brought a hand to give him a one-armed hug. Ichigo’s entire body tensed so suddenly, Kisuke was thinking it had been a mistake before the tension disappeared and the boy slumped against him. After a moment’s hesitation on both their parts, Ichigo leaned his head on his shoulder. He was taller. He was older.

He was still but a child.

“…What happened to my friends?” The lucid tone startled the Shinigami, given how exhausted Ichigo looked. It almost hurt as much to hear him ask that.

Of course he would.

“They’re fine.” Kisuke said, knowing it to be true. He had made sure they were as far away from this as possible. “We are beginning preparations to transfer Karakura back to its place in the human world. We did our best, but still some damage incurred to your town. You have my deepest apologies.”

Who cared about the town? Kisuke would never, ever repent for what he himself had done to the boy.

“Y-our,” his voice wavered. He cleared his throat. "…excuse me, your friends are awake, last time I heard. They were all dying to hear from you. The only way to appease them was to promise them that you would be with them shortly.” Kisuke said with a bland smile. Ichigo looked intrigued. “I made sure their memory wouldn’t be erased, although this decision ultimately falls on you.”

 “…” Ichigo seemed to mull this over for a second, voice still impossibly light despite the darkness in his eyes. He hummed and Kisuke was absurdly sure he was smiling. “Yeah. I don’t think I want to keep secrets from my friends anymore. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” Kisuke said impulsively. Before Ichigo began tilting his face to look at him, the man continued. “I… How- how are you feeling?”

No apologies.

What he had done would not be solved by a measly apology. And right now there were more urgent matters to attend to.

(And the worst part was, that he knew, that if he had to go back right at this moment, he still wouldn’t have changed a thing.)

Instead, he buried it deep within his rotten soul. Right now, he needed to make sure Ichigo was alright.

(As alright as he could be after being broken apart, used and discarded like a toy.)

 “…” Ichigo stiffened, but didn’t pull away, and before the silence became truly strained, the now-man whispered. “I’m not sure if I did the right thing.”

What?

“What are you talking about? By risking your life to defeat Aizen, you saved your friends and family and virtually everyone.”

“I know.”

“You did the right thing, Ichigo.” He tried again. No. The last thing he needed was to make _Ichigo_ feel guilty. “There’s no need to look like that. There was no other thing to be done.” Kisuke persisted, concern lacing his words. The brown eyed male righted himself, letting his head hang loosely between his shoulders. Kisuke immediately missed the warmth.

“That it was the only way doesn’t make it righteous, Kisuke.” But before Kisuke could rebut that –any and all guilt should be his to bear alone, it was his fault, their sacrifice– the orangehead continued haltingly. “Hey, Kisuke, Aizen… Was he really rejected by the Hogyoku?”

Ichigo paused and sighed. ”I managed to be as strong as he was. Stronger, even. We finally crossed swords and I… all I could feel from his sword was… _loneliness.”_ There was something raw and hurt in the way his lips twitched, but Ichigo continued. “Maybe. Maybe Aizen wished to lose his power. Wished to be a mere shinigami. Maybe he had been too powerful too long, and he had just been looking for an equal.”

Neither said anything after those words. Kisuke hated how those words reeked of truth. Because he wanted to feel no sympathy for the madman that had robbed this teen of almost everything, who had robbed several other people –himself included – of an entire life.

_A winner has to speak not of the world as it is, but as it should be!_

Unbidden, Aizen’s final words come back to haunt him. What exactly, was the world Aizen envisioned like?

Was it really just power delirium? Or could Ichigo be right?

Anger came and went, like a tidal wave. No, even if Ichigo was right, nothing justified what had that man had done. But it helped Kisuke complete his puzzle of why and what moved Aizen. What motivated him. What made him tick.

“Maybe you’re right, Ichigo-kun. But that doesn’t excuse him. There are several thousands of lonely people that haven’t tried to rule the world. Or at least haven’t succeeded at that.” Kisuke said instead with a goofy grin, trying to cheer up the other a little. Take his mind off such inevitably sad thoughts. “Imagine that, ‘The League of Loneliness has struck again, will we be safe from their clutches’?” He mock-announced as if it were today’s headlines.

 Ichigo faltered a bit in surprise at that, before huffing goodnaturedly and punching him lightly on the shoulder. “Stop that, you idiot, ain’t funny.”

“Hmm, I wonder about that. If we pitched the Karakura Risers against them…I’m pretty sure that would sell!” The pale blond grinned as he twirled his hat, inwardly glad at the annoyed look of the other.

“Karakura…Risers? What the hell is that? I think your mind is going senile, Kisuke.” He – _‘finally, oh thanks Soul King, finally!’ –_   rebutted, injecting some life into his voice. He snatched the hat away from the shopkeeper. “And give me that, it pisses me just seeing it!”

“You wound me, Ichigo-kun.” Kisuke sniffed as he tried to regain his precious hat. He was quickly forced to give up when the World Savior donned the hat with a smirk and a stuck out tongue. “Ichigo-kun…” The shopkeeper said, with such seriousness that it startled the other. “You…look utterly adorable at the moment.”

“I-wha-what?” The young man spluttered indignantly –and a nice shade of pink– as he proceeded to deny it; he tugged the hat over his eyes, effectively contradicting his words.

“Aww, is Ichi-kun embarrassed?” The older shinigami sing-songed, only to be shoved off his seat by the irritated carrot top. Kisuke blinked surprised from his new position on the floor, as he snatched the slowly falling hat out of the air before it hit his face. He gladly ignored the deep ache as his body protested the treatment in favor of smiling at a –albeit somewhat mortified– calmer man.

The shopkeeper struggled to his feet, trying not to let the other see how much it hurt to move, as he sensed Ichigo’s other friends rushing here. He noticed Ichigo also sensed them, if the sobered look on him was anything to go by.

“Ku…Kurosaki-kun?”

And Kisuke stepped aside to let the younger people –huh, he sounded so old– greet Ichigo and fuzz over him.  Exhausted and spent, Ichigo returned the sentiment with a lot less energy.  Kisuke saw the love-struck Inoue cry and Ichigo’s features softening and probably drawing strength from nowhere, he smiled and began walking closer to-

But then time seemed to stand still as the young man began to fall, his body simply giving in to gravity.

Like a puppet with its strings cut.

With a loud thud, Ichigo collapsed, his unstable reiatsu exploding all around them as the young man could do nothing but scream in pain.

 

Soon before the changing man-teen ( _boy_ , _he was just a boy_ ) stopped screaming and long after he lost full consciousness, Kisuke was already on Ichigo, trying his best to minimize the pain and damage Ichigo’s body would suffer as the effects of _that_ technique took its toll.

He ignored the searing pain of his palms and face, this was the only thing he could do for the teen and he’d be damned if he failed at it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Tired.

He felt so tired.

So frigging tired, but he was awake…sorta. So he tried prying open his eyes with much effort.

Ichigo squinted as the too-bright world finally came into focus.

Dazedly, he looked around to find to his confusion that this was not his room. Actually when had he fallen asleep? If he remembered correctly… wasn’t he supposed to be-

Ichigo bolted upright as a memory of Aizen flashed in his mind. Memory that was immediately blindsided by the acute pain that seemed to stem from Ichigo’s own soul. As the fifteen-year-old teen tried to control his breathing, praying that his vision would stop swimming, he heard the –sliding–door being opened before someone rushed to his side.

“Ichigo-kun, you’re awake-! Lie down, calmly please, you’re still injured.” Ichigo knew that voice. Even though it had a ring to it that wasn’t usual. As he obeyed the pressure on his chest and shoulders to lay back he forced his eyes to open again –when had he closed them?– and stared at Urahara Kisuke’s face.

“Oh. Hello, Kisuke.”

Steel-colored eyes blinked in surprise before twinkling in amusement. “Hello to you too, Ichigo-kun. I see you’re finally awake.”

“Hmm. I’m not so sure. Your eyes aren’t supposed to twinkle.” He slurred out drunkenly as he tried to look at his surroundings. Kisuke seemed to pause, before answering his unspoken question.

“You’re at my humble Shoten. You took quite the damage…after defeating Aizen.”

“Oh. I did that, didn’t I?”

“Yes you did. At a great cost I might add.” Kisuke muttered forlornly before composing himself and adding in a soft voice, an echo of better times. “You certainly have a flair for the dramatic, Ichigo-kun.”

Unbidden tears sprang to his eyes as the now-powerless teen started to shake with laughter, and still chuckling his meager energy ran out and once again fell unconscious.

 

 

* * *

 

“’ello, Inoue…Chad…” Ichigo smiled feebly, his eyebrows rising as he caught sight of a third figure. “Ishida… whoa, am I dying or something?”

“Don’t joke around like that, Kurosaki.” The pale skinned teen muttered, pushing his glasses up with a hand. “I see you’re well enough to act like yourself.”

“Aww, were you worried about me?” Ichigo teased, only to receive a smoldering glare courtesy of the Quincy before his sight was obscured with auburn hair.

“Kurosaki-kun… I’m so glad to see you’re alright…” Inoue sniffled, doing her very best not to burst out crying. Ichigo wondered mildly if this was the first time they had seen each other since Aizen’s.

“Heh, sorry for worrying you guys. But you should know by now that I’m pretty hard to kill.”

“Ichigo…” Chad’s voice rumbled familiarly in Ichigo’s chest before a fist was gently put against his forehead, “You did it.”

Ichigo blinked in surprise before catching Chad’s relieved smile and he let a smile curve his own lips. “Yeah…” He said, and they both knew that the Mexican wasn’t talking about Aizen but rather that Ichigo had come back.

Ichigo was about to say how relieved he was of seeing them looking so healthy when his energy ran out and he once again fell unconscious.

 

* * *

Goddamit he was hungry.

 Blinking sleep-heavy eyelids, Ichigo finally woke up for the third time feeling…not better. Less like dying was more like it.

…

Something wasn’t right.

Ichigo sat up, slowly as it finally dawned on him that he couldn’t sense anything. And there was a big, bleeding hole inside him.

Mournfully, he clenched his fists over his chest, even trying to trace the lines of a non-existent mask over his face. The now-teen closed his eyes tightly, inhaled and exhaled… and hoped that the hole would scar someday.

He exited the room.

 

* * *

 

“Ichigo-dono. I made breakfast for you, if you please come with me…” Kisuke’s head snapped up at hearing his friend’s voice and after silently making his way around the slumbering teens sprawled all across one of his unused rooms, he headed over to the kitchen.

“Ichigo-kun.” The blond whispered in relief at seeing the pale, but very much alive Vizard trying to eat a bowl of porridge with exhaustion still creeping on his every move. The orangehead snapped to attention and gave him a lopsided smile before frowning in disconcert. Kisuke also felt like frowning.

“The hell happened to you, Getaboushi?” Kisuke knew that if the teen had had more energy, the glare would have been much more severe. He was suddenly very aware of the bandages covering his arms, chest and part of his neck.

“Well, it’s almost embarrassing to admit that I was in a pretty bad shape after the whole battle with Aizen.” Kisuke said dismissively, entering the kitchen to have a meal as well (breakfast? Super? What hour was it, even?). He sat down opposite him and stared back evenly as Ichigo’s scowl seemed to deepen.

“…You’re… lying,” Ichigo said after a long pause, absentmindedly rubbing at his chest, trying to dredge up the memories of what had happened after beating Aizen. The shopkeeper hadn’t been _that_ injured. “Who did that to you?”

The steel-eyes man stared back, unimpressed. But Ichigo’s tired gaze slid over to how thin fingers seemed a second away from twitching and Ichigo released a pained sigh as he slid his face into his hands.

“Fuck, when? _How_?”

“What are you-?”

“You’re lying to me. And since the biggest dickhead has already been beaten, there would be no reason for you to lie to me as to who injured you. Meaning that I did it. Fucking perfect. Now answer me.”

Grimacing, the pale blond spent a minute to mentally slap himself –he should already know how to properly pretend at his age– before explaining in as few words as possible how Ichigo’s unstable reiatsu had basically attacked him while he tried to stabilize him after Mugetsu finally took its toll.

While the older male was trying to nag the other to shut _up_ and continue eating, the rest of the teens woke up and they all soon swarming the kitchen. Kisuke blended in with the surroundings and let Kurosaki be eased of his worries by his friends.

(It should be them, not him. It should be someone who actually deserved to hold a conversation with the teen.)

 

* * *

“’m sorry.”

“Ichigo-“ Kisuke started with a resigned frown, but shut up immediately at noticing the other was asleep. The steel-eyed male finished changing his bandages in silence, keeping an eye on the other. Once done, stood up but was unable to leave his temporal room with that pained expression on his face.

“…sorry…am sorry…just don’t…leave…” Ichigo kept on mumbling, his features strained in pain. Worried, Kisuke immediately tried to wake the other up. The teen’s eyes snapped open, but still hazy with nightmares, brown eyes focused on him and muttered brokenly, “Kisuke…they’re gone…and it’s bleeding…”

“Ichigo-kun, calm down, it’s only a dream. Wake up, come on.” The blond urged the other, only getting more worried when his eyes focused and became panicked but not less hurt. “Ichigo…?”

The teen paled and shoved his face away, seemingly dizzy. “-me a sec, I’ll be alright…”

Ichigo raised a hand to clench it over his heart, drew in a shuddering breath and relaxed with his exhalation. The teen managed a smile but the shopkeeper couldn’t help but grimace at seeing the pain being merely ignored and tucked away.

“There, I’m fine. Sorry about that, I’m fine, fine.” The – _fifteen-year-old_ – teen mumbled blandly, hand raised to his hair.

“Ichigo-kun?” Kisuke mumbled.

“Yeah?”

 _What’s bleeding?_ Kisuke backtracked at the last moment and instead patted the other on the head. Whatever that had been about it wasn’t his business. “Sorry about waking you up. I was just changing your bandages. Now let me excuse myself-“

A hand darted almost instinctively to wrap around his wrist just as he was going to walk away. Both males seemed surprised by the childish action, before Ichigo retracted his appendage as if burned and avoided his gaze.

Kisuke turned back to facing him, as he bent down and picked up what seemed like a box of biscuits. “Would you like to eat something?” He said before he plopped back down. Ichigo’s lower lip trembled –the former captain wasn’t sure if to laugh or sob– just before the teen lied back down, giving his back to Kisuke.

“Not hungry.“

Hesitantly, Kisuke laid a hand on one taut shoulder making the other jump slightly. He didn’t remove his hand however, and the teen seemed to deflate, accepting the touch. He wondered if he had had another nightmare.

“It’s alright, Ichigo-kun. Everything’s alright now. Just relax…”

“No. It’s not fine.”  Ichigo replied vehemently, voice strong but tired.  “They’re gone and they’re not coming back. But it’s okay. I’ll manage. I have to.” and Kisuke finally realized what this was all about and felt like stabbing himself.

Ichigo hadn’t only lost his powers. He had lost a good part of his soul as well as his partners.

“I’m sorry, Ichigo-kun. I truly am.”

“Yeah,” Ichigo agreed easily enough, “me too.”

 

* * *

“He’s not dead is he?”

“No, I assure you he’s-“

“Oi, Ichigo! Wake up!”

“Please do not disturb him Sarugaki-san.”

“Why not, if he’s alive then he should better wake up now. I wanna talk to him.”

The Vizards as a whole had graced Urahara’s humble lodgings once they had been able to at least stand up, to watch over their youngest member. Unceremoniusly they had crammed themselves into Ichigo’s private recovery room in which the boy was still slumbering away while Kisuke tried to keep them in line.

Ichigo would be glad everyone was alive and accounted for, Hachi’s powers leaving them completely unscathed although exhausted.

It obviously alarmed all the Vizards to see how long it took Ichigo to even notice them, Kisuke having to be the one to wake him up. And they had all been a step away from fainting when they noticed they couldn’t feel Ichigo’s reiatsu, and Urahara’s evasions and lies didn’t help. But thankfully they schooled their expressions when brown eyes scanned them all.

“Oh. I thought I had dreamt Hiyori’s voice.” He mumbled tiredly, as he absently rubbed his chest again.

“Ichigo…’ya still injured?” Shinji asked with a frown his worry skyrocketing when Ichigo flinched and immediately removed his hand. The teen scowled at him.

“No.” He said and Kisuke sighed when the ever-sharp blond narrowed his eyes in concern. He knew something was wrong with the boy.

“Kisuke, a word with you.”

 

 

“The reason we can’t feel the kid’s massive reiatsu isn’t because he drained himself nor you placed a barrier on his signal, right?” The blond mumbled to the air, mental gears already turning before Kisuke had even opened his mouth. His voice wasn’t above a whisper seeing as they had merely stepped out of the cramped room.

“He sacrificed his powers to defeat Aizen.” Kisuke admitted, trying to be as succinct as possible. No matter what he said, he knew that Shinji would be outraged given how protective this man was of his own.

“That’s bullshit!” The Vizard exploded, fury in his eyes. “Why just a kid would have to-!”

“Hey, I’m not a kid.” Shinji inhaled loudly, his tirade cut short as he whirled around, just as surprised as Kisuke. They clearly had not been expecting the orangehead to be there. There it was again the scowl and smile mixture on his face. “It had to be done, geezer. Neither of you should beat yourself over this. Besides, now I can sneak up on two of the most powerful shinigamis on earth.”

“Ichigo… I’m sorry.” Shinji interrupted him, looking somber and sad. Ichigo averted his eyes, smile still in place.

“Don’t know why’re you apologizing so much though, “ Ichigo replied and then released a weird chuckle. “I guess you should be jealous I managed to get rid of my hollow before you.”

And there was a certain rise in his voice that said that he hadn’t wanted that at all. The two old souls exchanged a weighty gaze before Shinji broke into a grin and slung an arm around a surprised Ichigo and kneaded his head with a fist.

“Oi, oi, you brat, gotta respect your elders. Anyway, to celebrate we aren’t all dead, how about a party?” Here he sobered up as tired –hollow, empty– eyes asked him what there was to celebrate and he smiled faintly, tired and sad. The creases on his face spoke of centuries. “Ichigo, you saved our asses, be a little bit happy at least.”

“I think he will like the idea, but right now, I wouldn’t want to celebrate either.” Kisuke cut in, looking attentively at the young male– who looked at him with (repulsive, undeserved) relief. He looked up to Shinji and he saw him nodding along.

“Yer right, but still ya’ shouldn’t close down on us, you hear?” Shinji added, “Ya mind if we come pester you some other times?” Ichigo frowned at him in confusion and the blond rolled his eyes. “Come on kid, don’t tell me I still have to spell it out for ya’. We’re comrades, family even. We will want to see you again.”

“But if I don’t have powers…”

“So what?” Ichigo found it hard to meet either of their gazes, even if he wanted to. “Ichigo, we won’t start avoiding you just because you don’t have your powers anymore. That’s stupid.”

Ichigo had no answer to that. Shinji didn’t care.

 

 

* * *

 

Kisuke felt glad at the presence of the Vizards for they seemed to truly help Ichigo move on. The teen still was prone to bouts of sudden silence, but had overall healed.

Yet there were nights in which Kisuke suddenly woke up to see –not sense, not anymore– a huddled figure by his bed, cradling his knees to his chest, staring at him. In silence, Ichigo would apologize and start to leave but Kisuke followed him to his temporal room and giving the teen the excuse of “not feeling well? Let’s see if some tea will help,” he made the teen company until the loneliness of his face could be scared away one more day.

(He had broken the boy with his own two hands. This was the least he could do.)

 

* * *

“He isn’t going to get well anytime soon if that kid stays coped up like this.” Love spoke up one day as all the Vizards and Kisuke shared a meal. Ichigo had dozed off earlier.

Shinji nodded at him, shooting a look at the door to Ichigo’s room. “He’s right. So, what do you guys suggest? Maybe taking his human friends into this might help.”

“That sounds alright but you don’t even know where we’re going.” Yadomaru Lisa spoke up, her eyes not lifting from the book she was reading. Shinji rolled his eyes, but she had a point.

“What does a human teenager like anyway?” Rose asked to no one in particular and the answer came swiftly enough.

“Porn.” “Chicks.” “Manga.” Came the overlapping and revealing answers from Lisa, Shinji and Love, respectively. The table snorted as a whole and Kisuke rolled his eyes in silence at their bantering. Odd, he thought, Kisuke was so sure tension would be high given what he had involuntarily done to these people…

Yet they hadn’t called on him. That didn’t mean they trusted him. Far from it, he was aware of the alert eyes of everyone on him, but there was no threat. Kisuke concluded it had something to do with their common goal of helping Ichigo.

“What do you think, Urahara?” Sarugaki shot at him, a strange smirk curving her lips. The Vizards quieted down to hear his answer. Kisuke was puzzled.

“Well, I’m afraid I wouldn’t know. I’ve only known Ichigo-kun as my apprentice.” He replied mildly. For some reason, he didn’t like his own answer. Nor did the other dinner guests, apparently. But he was saved by a new voice that added in a dreamy voice.

“How about a picnic? Kurosaki-kun wouldn’t say no to that.” Inoue had invited herself into the kitchen without anyone’s notice, blushing as everyone’s focus turned to her and to hide her embarrassment, she hastily greeted everyone there. Behind her, Kisuke noticed that all of Ichigo’s human friends had also arrived dressed in their school garbs.

“That is quite a good idea, Inoue-san.” Kisuke hummed, tapping his fan against his chin. He glanced at the others and he received nods from all of them. “Well then if everyone agrees…”

 

 

* * *

 

“Can someone explain to me what’s going on?” The recently-kidnapped-Kurosaki Ichigo asked out loud, scowl in place as a set of chopsticks and a lunched box was shoved into his lap. The auburn girl started answering from her position two seats to his left, but was quickly drowned by Hiyori’s indignant shouts.

“What do you mean I’m not allowed sake, you idiot!? Stop calling me a midget and hand over the alcohol!” She screamed at Shinji before planting her feet on said man’s face. The sake escaped Shinji’s grasp but was caught by an amused Love who decided to play along. The running duo’s shouts soon got drowned by the overall chatter.

“Everyone wanted to enjoy the good weather while it lasted so Inoue suggested a picnic.” Sado’s deep baritone explained to the still-scowling Ichigo, who shot his big friend an amused smile before starting to eat.

“Well, whatever.” He replied, cheeks already as round as a chipmunk’s. Around him everyone was as lively as ever. The former shinigami immediately turned to his human friends, sensing the slight unease they all had around so many sort-of-not-so-strangers. Kisuke turned to Yoruichi for the same reason.

Sooner than anyone would think possible, the sky darkened and they all had to head back home. Ichigo went back with Kisuke and Yoruichi but he informed them that his injuries were healed and that he was going to pick up his stuff and head back home.

“Stay safe, Ichigo-kun,” the former captain said with a smile, feeling as if this was the last goodbye. After all there would be no reason as to why he would still visit him given that he had no powers and his duty as shinigami was over (as well as he should, he deserved better). “Live a long life, Ichigo-kun. I wish you good luck in your future endearvors. It was very pleasant to have you as my apprentice.”

“Thanks uh, I learned a lot from you too… Thanks for everything, I guess.” Ichigo replied while nodding but didn’t try to leave; apparently battling with something else he wanted to say.

“What’s the matter, Ichigo-kun?” Kisuke managed to fight down the acrid taste of guilt to notice the restless air about Ichigo.

“I know it’s really a bother and all but… could I come back…some other time?” Ichigo finally mumbled, mortified. Seeing the other’s surprise, he immediately tried to excuse himself, “I don’t mean to impose, sorry, just wanted to know-it’s alright if you don’t want me to-just say the word and I’ll-“

“Ichigo-kun… I really wouldn’t mind seeing you around.” Kisuke cut him, smiling softly at the surprised teen. The blond felt oddly relieved to hear the teen say that. It wouldn’t be the last time they talked then. Hope made his smile wider (as if he didn’t know better). “Feel free to come here whenever you want to. You’ll always be welcome here, no matter what.”

(If the boy had found a haven in his sin-ridden home, he wouldn’t be the one to deny it for him.)

For some reason, Kisuke’s words made Ichigo lower his head, hiding his suddenly suspiciously watery eyes. “Thanks.” He croaked out, but then it was all over and Ichigo’s neutral face was back. “Well then, I’m off.

“See you later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp.  
> That happened.  
> How have you liked the story so far? Was this chapter alright? The flow wasn't rushed?  
> I mostly followed canon, but for this entire war I took a bit of liberties, I hope you don't mind?  
> Also I love writing recovering Ichigo, how about you?
> 
> Wow, only one more chapter if everything goes as planned! I'm so excited! We finally get to see our precious uraichi!  
> EDIT: Slightly altered Kisuke's aftermath with Harribel, and his standstill with Aizen for a better flow/read. Also I must laugh at myself for thinking I could wrap everything up in one chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

Once the – _crippled, injured, broken–_ former substitute Shinigami had left his shop, his metaphorical ghost came to haunt Kisuke.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t accuse him of anything; his mind deciding to be merciful enough to leave that to his own inner voice. But he was always in the corner of his mind’s eye, staring.

Oftentimes it was just as if the teen himself was still in the shop, lurking just out of sight, but it was enough that Kisuke avoided what had been his room for the longest time.

Normally, he could ignore it, other times he would ask himself if it had been worth it.

Without fail, his inhumane soul whispered, _yes._

If Kisuke had to vomit up all the guilt, had to feel it in the cold sweat he woke up in in the middle of the night, that was only a small price to pay.

In the meantime, he allowed himself to be weak and steered clear of the room in which Ichigo had been. The room that held the last vestiges of his presence there.

 

So of course, it wasn’t until he finally gathered the courage to go back and finally open the door to Ichigo’s former room, that someone decided to visit his humble abode.

Kisuke was already staring in her direction when Inoue finally caught sight of him. The girl jumped a little, a dainty little blush on her cheeks. “Um, hello, Urahara-san. Sorry for intruding.”

“Not at all! Consider yourself at home!” It had been. At some point. It had been home to a bunch of misfit teens in over their own heads, too dumb to notice that Kisuke was nothing but bad news. Or perhaps they knew and were too dumb to care. “Whatever can I do for you, Inoue-san?”

The girl smiled, even as she hugged herself and shifted anxiously from her left foot to her right. “It’s really nothing, I’m just being silly…But, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about something.”

Kisuke felt absolutely miserable over the fact that he began to panic. He was horrible at offering consolation, or comforts but it’s not like he could turn her away. Not only was she Ichigo’s friend, she had also been caught in Kisuke’s schemes, even if just as collateral.

“What might this something be?” Kisuke found himself asking, catching a glimpse of the ghost of Ichigo flitting out of the corner of his eyes.

Were worthless platitudes all he could do to atone?

“Uh, this is probably really silly and I’m sorry to bother you, after everything you’ve done for us and,” the girl was nervous, worried even. Worry began to gnaw at Kisuke’s empty gut. “Well I just came here to ask you some- I mean; I hope you know the answer to some questions I…have.”

“I see,” Kisuke replied mildly, not pointing out that she had already said that. Instead, he closed the door at his back, staring like a gaping empty wound, and quietly led her to the kitchen. Like a naïve child, Inoue followed him with a nervous smile and a sigh of relief.

He perused his cabinets for some peppermint to prepare an infusion –to soothe, to calm– even as he looked at the nervous girl sitting by the counter over his shoulder.

“So, Inoue-san, what may these questions be?

The girl hesitated, hands threading her hair falling over one shoulder. She inhaled, steeling herself and straightening up on her seat, her hands resting neatly on her lap. She opened her mouth and immediately let her nervousness through again. Kisuke smiled encouragingly (who was he? A counselor?), before turning his attention to the pot of boiling water he had just removed from the stove. He began to pour in two cups.

“I… I mean, Kurosaki-kun lost-lost his powers…” A lull, as if the words hurt, once they were out. Kisuke’s hands never wavered, but he might as well have poured the boiling water on himself.

He forced himself to listen when the girl found the strength to continue. “Like, all his powers. His reiatsu. And, I mean…what happened with the- I mean, with Kurosaki-kun’s…hollow?” Inoue finally managed to ask, whispering the last word as if it was a forbidden name.

(He did not miss the haunted look on her face, but as always he just tucked that piece of information inside his mind and gave her a bland smile.)

“Well…” He began, as he took both cups to the kitchen counter, with a mumbled warning before handing Inoue her hot beverage. “Since the hollow is also part of your friend’s powers, I suppose it too has disappeared.”

(It was easy to feign composure. He had been doing that his entire life. Still, the words hurt like someone was serrating his throat.)

Not only was the hollow a source of power, it also was another facet of Ichigo’s very own soul. And that of course brought back the question of, exactly how much of his soul had Ichigo really lost?

The steel-eyed male snapped to attention at recognizing the utter relief that washed over Inoue.

“Inoue-san?”

“Ah!” The girl gasped, as if she had been caught with her hands in the cookie jar. She bit down on her lip, before confessing with her shoulders bowed, lowering her head. Her hair cascaded over her face, half-hiding her away from view.  “Um… I just…” A tired sigh. “Do you know what happened in Hueco Mundo?”

His interest piqued, Ichigo had been the one to tell him about it. Had he omitted something? Had Kisuke _missed something_?

Inoue seemed to be blind to his inner turmoil as she continued trying to get the words out. “Do you… Do you know about the…fights? I mean, about… what… the fight with Ulquiorra?” Kisuke’s lack of response seemed enough answer, Inoue continued.

“Kurosaki-kun, he… He fought with Ulquiorra to protect me and…” She paused, her expression becoming even more haunted. Had Kisuke been at fault for breaking yet another child? “But he wasn’t strong enough. I’m not really sure what happened then but… I think Kurosaki-kun d-died there-then. And I couldn’t-but then…” She raised one hand to her mouth, as if to hide her chuckle.

It was shrill and ugly, traces of hysteria on her face.

Kisuke stared at her, the same horror on his soul as the notion of Ichigo _dying_ when he wasn’t there to help him struck him like a sledgehammer. The notion that if this girl hadn’t existed, Ichigo would have died there.

(He was not too sure if the horror was because he’d be losing the Queen of his empty chessboard, the only remaining piece to topple the King, or because he could actually feel regret and sadness this far in.)

Inoue probably thought the same, if the growing shadows cast over her face were any indication. And still, she was not done. “I don’t know what happened but…he transformed. Kurosaki-kun, he- Kurosaki-kun became a hollow.”

Silence.

After all that had happened, after all of the awful, awful memories evoked just the moment prior, it did not immediately compute. “Do you mean his mask-?”

“No.” Both hands clutching the cup, her brow scrunched. Fear lurking in her expression. What fresh horror was she going to reveal? “I- it was as if a monster had taken over him… White skin, c-claws and horns… it fired _ceros!”_ The Santen Kesshun user continued describing him with mounting hysteria. In short, intermittent phrases she told him how that _thing_ had killed Ulquiorra, almost killed Ishida and didn’t even seem capable of speech.

Meanwhile Kisuke’s entrails had gone cold as he remembered, _“Urahara-san, please tell me I’m not a murderer… Better being a monster than a…”_ His ironic smile flashed in his mind. “ _Nothing, just heard some phony psychology…”_

In the corner of his eyes, Ichigo was staring at him again. His face was impassive as it always was. And yet he seemed to accuse him.

_You couldn’t even notice that, could you?_

Kisuke couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath.

How could have he missed it? How could have Ichigo failed to mention this horrible, horrible fact?

_“Better being a monster than…”_

No.

How dare Kisuke not have paid attention? He was supposed to help him! To listen to him if it was the only thing he could do for him!

The sick copy of Ichigo his mind conjured sneered at him. His dark brown eyes knowing and scrutinizing.

_You refused to listen. Because that would have made things difficult for you._

_It would have given your little sacrificial toy more depth than you were willing to acknowledge._

And that was awful, absolutely awful and he deserved nothing short of death but there were more pressing matters at hand.

Ichigo thought himself a monster.

After whatever happened in his fight- and Ichigo hadn’t been able to do or talk about _anything-_ and if Inoue and Ishida both thought of him- were scared of him…

Ichigo thought himself a monster.

 _‘Fuck.’_ Kisuke couldn’t think straight. Outwardly he nodded, told the girl he’d think about what had happened there, as well as assured her that the hollow indeed was gone, His words, empty platitudes he wasn’t even hearing. And she left.

Meanwhile, the same phrase couldn’t stop looping itself inside his mind.

_Ichigo thought himself a monster._

That idiot!

No, he was the idiot. He had told Ichigo he could count on him and the teen had even reached out to him but he had been unable to properly convey his worries. Kisuke had been too stupid not to notice.

(Too stupid, too selfish.)

 

With this new revelation, his guilt finally exploded, denying the man of any sort of sustenance– as he puked it all out at the barest reminder of-

Kisuke locked himself in the bathroom and prayed that he could pretend his sobs were nothing more than empty retching.

 

* * *

The former captain of the Twelfth knew that he had things to do. That, sure, the decade-old plan had finally finished, the worlds had not died a fiery death, but that did not mean he could just sit on the floor of his bathroom and ask for forgiveness.

No.

He had made enough mistakes.

He knew what the problem was now. He would fix it. Even if it cost him his sanity.

 

So he took a shower, he dressed in his usual robes and sat down to meditate.

If he wanted to confront the teen about this, he needed to be in a calmer state of mind.

Tuck the guilt away, and think only about the teen he had sworn to protect.

As if it was magic, that change of mindset, from guilt to resolve to protect had him feeling lighter than he’d felt in decades.

(Lighter than when he had stared at a newborn child and thought, _martyr._ )

 

* * *

It was harder to track him down, now that he didn’t have reiatsu. Even though the thought hurt as if he was swallowing a gallon of sulfuric acid, it was the harsh reality now.

And so he tried meeting Ichigo by mere chance, hoping to find him on his way from school, but the one that ended up coming for him was none other than Hirako Shinji.

“Oh, Kisuke. What a nice surprise.” Hirako had said with a lazy wave, sarcasm heavy on his tongue as he shot him his usual crooked grin. The man stepped out of the sidewalk to join him in his contemplation of the river down below. Standing on the uneven terrain, Kisuke could feel Hirako towering over him.

“Hirako-san. Good afternoon to you too.” Kisuke replied, as polite as always, never taking his eyes away from the flowing water. 

“What have you been up to lately?” The former captain of the Fifth asked, as if he didn’t want nothing more than to catch up with his former comrade. His eyes skittered in the direction of Ichigo’s school. “Keeping yourself busy?”

Kisuke sighed, not in the mood to be playing any games. “Is there anything you need, Hirako-san?”

“Say, Kisuke. I’m just, y’know. Curious.” Hirako drawled out, voice deceptively calm. He looked back at him, freezing him with his glare. “ Y’see I have been thinking lately and I found something strange. What are the odds… What are the odds that both you and Isshin would find someone as strong as Ichigo?”

Kisuke’s face betrayed nothing, despite the cold sensation in the pit of his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye, the ghost of Ichigo was there, silent. Staring. Judging.

Condemning.

(As well was his right.)

“What are the odds,” Hirako repeated, his eyes glowing with the feral fury of his hollow. “That a fifteen-year-old _child_ would willingly sacrifice himself for ‘the greater good’?”

(The ghostly teen smiled mockingly as he mouthed Hirako’s last words.)

Kisuke opened his mouth, and almost choked on his spit.

But what could he say anyway? It was true. They had raised Ichigo to be the perfect pawn, they had raised him with no regards to the child whose future they were mutilating.

(And unlike the lame copy now haunting his thoughts, that child had the gall to smile and forgive all of them.)

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

Kisuke looked down. “There are,” he began, licked his lips and started again. “There are no words to apologize for what I’ve done. I am aware of that. But I also know that I would still do it again, if the occasion called for it. Because this was the only feasible decision, the only possible-“

Hirako didn’t even need the terrain’s advantage to tower over him, as he pressed his face so very close to his. “Don’t give me that _bullshit_. How could you do this? Who gave you the _right_?”

“ _But!_ ” Kisuke exclaimed, straightening his back and staring back at a surprised Vizard. “There’s no use in lamenting. No use in being sorry. What would that change?” Nothing. It had never helped in anything. He would know.

“Is that your excuse?”

Kisuke narrowed his eyes. “It is my atonement. It is a promise, to fix what I can. Ichigo _survived_!” He exclaimed, undeserved relief in his voice. “He survived and now more than ever he needs help! And if I can do something about it, if there’s any way I can atone for it…”

He wound down, his back bowing as the weight of his mistakes returned. “I couldn’t help the Vizards. I gave up because I couldn’t undo what had been done to you. I gave up. Even though you were still alive. I won’t make the same mistake. Not when he still has the will to live.” He looked down. “Not when he needs someone by his side. I promised myself, Hirako-san. If this child found solace in my home, no matter my sins, I would not deny it for him.”

Smile for him.

Be there for him.

“It is not enough to atone. I am fully aware that it won’t ever be enough. But that’s all I can offer.”

Hirako was silent for a very long while.

He stepped back and stared at him, thoughtful.

(His scrutinizing eyes were old, older than they should be. In a way that only betrayal could carve into a man.)

“Well then, you better repent.” And with those vague words, Shinji nodded at him and began walking away. Without turning back, he called over his shoulder. “And for the record! None of us ever blamed you, not really.”

Kisuke was left to stare at his disappearing back, befuddled.

(The ghost disappeared.)

 

* * *

“Kisuke-san? What are you doing here?”

The blond man smiled at the confused Ichigo, patting the green patch by his side as an invitation. As if the fact that he was sitting by his lonesome on the uneven slope that ended in the infamous river was just a normal occurrence.

After that emotionally draining discussion he had had with Hirako, Kisuke had left, choosing to find Ichigo some other day.

So here he was, barely the next afternoon, before he lost all courage altogether and fled the town.

(He was still not done processing everything Hirako had told him, especially the part of them not blaming him –why wouldn’t they?– but he had far more important things to focus on.)

“Just admiring the view.” Kisuke replied leisurely, returning his gaze to the river. “Done with school?” He asked as the teenager –naively– picked his way over to him, sitting down without any hesitation.

“Yeah, um. Yeah.” Ichigo grunted softly, as if unsure of what to say. The amount of shifting he did, as he debated whether to sit cross-legged or with his legs extended was nothing short of endearing. “How have things been going? Are there any more Shinigami bothering you?”

Kisuke couldn’t help but chuckle, remembering fondly Ichigo’s fierce determination to argue for his sake. “What, are you going to defend me again?”

His comment brought upon them somewhat of a stilted silence.

“I guess I can’t do that now, can I?” Ichigo said, his voice too heavy with emotion to successfully hide it. He still cleared his throat and did a valiant effort to carry on the conversation. “So is there anything else you need?”

He wasn’t too sure why his simple question had Kisuke reeling back as if slapped. He stared at him, with wide silver eyes. Before he could formulate a question, Ichigo looked away, “um, sorry I just assumed. Seeing as how you are in a gigai. I mean, I can see you. And I don’t think you would bother with it if all you wanted was to sit here and contemplate… death or whatever is it shinigami do in their spare time.”

 “I…” _am sorry that you feel that all I ever do is use you_. “I guess you could say I wanted to talk with you.”

“With me? Why?” How was it that this boy could still look him with those eyes void of judgement? Especially when coupled with those horrible questions.

“Hm, you haven’t swung by the Shoten in a while, I guess you’ve made this poor, crooked heart of mine feel lonely.” Kisuke said, trying to be dramatic and inject some light-heartedness to their conversation. Ichigo frowned dubiously at him.

“Well, there’s no real point to it?” Ichigo said, looking for one second as if his broad shoulders would crumble. “I mean, my powers are all truly gone now.” A pause, a hungry, bottomless void lurking inside his dark eyes. “And I don’t want to be a bother-“

“A bother?” Kisuke cut him, blinking repeatedly as if that could help him see clearly. “How exactly would you be a bother, Ichigo-kun?”

“Uh…”

“Not only that, my offer was genuine. If you truly do not want to visit, then that’s understandable, but don’t ever for a second think that you are unwelcome there!” Kisuke exclaimed with maybe too much emotion. The Kurosaki son gaped at him.

“No, I- if you’re really fine with it I’d like to.” He stammered out before the words caught up to him. He quickly glanced down as if embarrassed. “Like a quick visit or whatever.”

“Yes,” Kisuke agreed, letting his voice soften again. “I would be happy to receive you, Ichigo-kun.” The boy smiled to his lap, briefly. “And if you ever need help, an ear to listen, a shoulder to lean on… please don’t hesitate to come for me. I will do everything in my power to help you.”

The boy was silent for a moment.

“Do you really mean it?” He whispered, letting Kisuke see briefly the scared, broken child he truly was.

Kisuke took off his ever-present hat and in that uneven slope, the sun slowly approaching the horizon, the wind ruffling up their clothes, Urahara Kisuke bowed for the second time.

“I swear on my name, that I will never abandon you, Kurosaki Ichigo. And I will help you in whatever you might need.”

Ichigo smiled.

 

* * *

And like that, the Shoten received her favorite non-customer the following week.

Kisuke hadn’t forgotten about the fact that he had to confront him about his hollow, but seeing Ichigo babbling excitedly about otherworldly events he had taken part in before he lost his powers, made him push it aside for the moment.

It wasn’t like Ichigo was alright either. It was hard to miss the tiredness in his movements, the extra creases around his eyes. The way something haunted his thoughts and memories.

His soul.

“Ichigo-kun,” Kisuke found himself asking during a lull in his conversation. “May I ask, how are you feeling?”

“Hm?” Ichigo hummed, focusing back on him. “Feeling how? I’m just a little tired, long day at school.”

“Ah, I see. There’s no special treatment for Heroes?” Kisuke tried joking then immediately felt like choking on his words. He didn’t _want_ Ichigo to continue behaving like a hero. Not if it meant a complete disregard for his own safety.

(Was it guilt or a real desire to help him?)

“As if my school would care even if they knew I saved the whole city.” Ichigo rolled his eyes, he snorted. Looking for one aching second like the teen he had never been allowed to be. “Anyway, what brought this up?”

The words hurt, but Kisuke smiled. “I was just wondering why do you look so tired.” Exhausted was more like it, but at this point what difference would it make?

Ichigo frowned. “I just told you. Reintegrating back to school hasn’t been easy.”

Kisuke nodded in silence, waiting him out. Ichigo looked away, back at him, shifted in place and finally scowled fiercely.

“What, what is it?” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “Are you also going to give me pity looks for losing Zangetsu?”

“Of course not.”

“Then… why are you staring?”

“Because,” he looked down at his hands. “For having just saved the world, you look as if you have lost everything.”

Because he had. They both knew that he had.

Ichigo tensed, refusing to capitulate. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I have found that it is not healthy to keep dark emotions to ourselves, Ichigo-kun. You saved us. You saved everyone even though you had no obligation to do so. And for that we are eternally thankful. But you don’t have to hide the cost of it. You don’t have to hide the scars, the tears. Those things won’t make less of your sacrifice. Of you.” Kisuke gulped. “I may just be a cheap substitute, but I would love to help soothe away that loneliness in your eyes.”

“What?” Ichigo mumbled, voice winded and trembling. The teen wasn’t looking at him, he had his gaze trained on his lap, an expression of surprise on his blotchy face. Silently, tears fell on his lap. “What?” He repeated, as if he couldn’t process where the water was coming from.

Kisuke looked down at his white-knuckled fists. “Ichigo-kun…”

_Do you regret it?_

“Do you miss Zangetsu?”

Sometimes all that is needed to overflow a dam, is a single drop.

More tears joined the first as the proud teen bowed his head and cried.

 

He cried and cried, silent sobs without echo, face covered as if it was something to be hidden.

Kisuke didn’t say anything. He just crawled closer to him, sitting side by side, staring ahead so Ichigo would not need to hide his face. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders when the teen leaned into him and rubbed his back soothingly.

(Once again, he was there to see Ichigo cry. But for the first time in his life, Kisuke was there to hold him.)

Ichigo didn’t really say anything, he didn’t ask for anything.

But Kisuke listened anyway. He stayed and weathered the storm with him.

And that was enough.

 

 

* * *

After that, they didn’t see each other for nearly a week.  

A week in which Kisuke continued stewing in his thoughts, thinking about the Vizards, about Ichigo, and of course, about his hollow.

Maybe…

Maybe it wasn’t in his position to say anything about it, maybe he should tell the Vizards –who apparently didn’t hate him– and let them handle it.

But…

But not only had it been Kisuke’s fault, not only had he forced Ichigo to deal with having a hollow, and then tossing him into the next big problem.

He had also somehow become a safe haven for the teen.

So it was rather out of that bizarre sense of responsibility, rather than acid guilt what guided him.

For once, Yoruichi made herself useful and used her cat form to knock on Ichigo’s window like a princess locked up in her tower, and tell him to come over some time.

 

* * *

The youngest Vizard was understandably anxious and worried, but Kisuke made sure to smile and greet his visitor with as much cheer as he could muster.

“What’s up? Do you need something?” Ichigo had asked, he entered the shop and followed Kisuke easily enough, but there was caution in his step, wariness in his expression.

Kisuke scratched his cheek, wondering how he could properly initiate this conversation.

“I actually wanted to discuss something with you?”

Ichigo looked at him, a bit tenser than required. “Oh? What about?”

The other man felt his hands itching to pull out his fan but he refrained as best as possible. He decided to be blunt about it. “I would like to discuss your hollow with you.”

Ichigo’s eyes widened, he took half a step back, pain and betrayal in his expression before he was scowling at him, “do you think this is funny?” He lashed out a hand, encompassing everything around them. “What do you even have to say about something that is _gone_?”

Kisuke didn’t close his eyes, even though he really wanted to. Close his eyes and stop looking at the child he had failed. He must have given something away by the way Ichigo’s features soften, but he didn’t take his words back.

They were true, anyway.

“My apologies. It might seem distasteful of me but…” Kisuke hesitated yet again, feeling the guilt and the pain and the inadequacy burning inside him.

(But Ichigo was still thinking about it. Still mourning his loss, given by his reaction.)

“I feel that you may not have been completely honest with me, when you told me about your venture into Hueco Mundo.”

“What are you talking about?” Ichigo narrowed his eyes, being as skittish and distrustful as he well deserved to be. It was odd, how much it could hurt.

Kisuke breathed in, almost losing his assurance that this was the correct thing to do. “Inoue-san told me about how you… you almost died.”

Ichigo was silent for a long moment. Then his back bowed, shame filling his eyes, where his anger had left him. “Oh.” He said, not meeting his eyes.

Kisuke was already grabbing his hand before he realized what he was doing. He lifted it to his forehead as he bowed from his waist. “I…. I am sorry, Ichigo-kun. I am sorry this happened to you. I am sorry I cannot be trusted enough for you to tell me about it. I’m sorry for bringing it up again. And I am sorry you… I’m sorry you thought yourself a monster.”

The hand he was cradling was cold, as Ichigo tried tugging it away weakly. After failing to do so, Ichigo mumbled, voice frail and hurt. “What… what are you talking about?”

Kisuke was silent.

Ichigo closed the hand, forming a weak fist. “What are you talking about?” He repeated in a stronger voice. “How exactly was I not a monster? You _weren’t_ there! You didn’t see me! You didn’t see Ulquiorra, how he was mutilated, how Ishida was hurt! You didn’t see the fear in Inoue’s eyes!”

“You are right, I didn’t.” Kisuke replied, voice flat and low. “Instead, I sent you to battle alone. Again. Instead of allowing you to learn to deal with your hollowification, I threw you head-long into yet another fight. No rest, no pause. Yet, there was nothing else to do. We were short on time, Ichigo-kun. Even though this doesn’t excuse us– _me_. Even though you already forgave us, forgave _me…_ What we did would qualify us as monsters. Yet you never called me that.”

“Well, that was because-“

“Hollows are creatures of instinct.” Kisuke cut him off, still staring at the shop’s floor. “The hollow inside of you is nothing more than raw instinct, crude power. You were forced to face it alone, untrained. You had to beat it into submission because that was the only thing you could do with the time we gave you, with the information we taught you. But that it came from you doesn’t mean that it _is_ you.

“Because your soul has suffered so much, when you were put in such peril, the instinct to survive grew so much that your soul was engulfed in it. You may have grown horns; you may have grown claws. You may have killed your opponent. But… you came back. There was still enough of you left for you to hear Inoue and come back. You came back because apparently, even in death, your instinct to protect your friends and family surpasses everything and everyone.” He breathed in, in the mourning silence. “How could I call you a monster, Ichigo-kun?”

Slowly, Kisuke let his hand slip away. He rose from his bow to see Ichigo staring at him, eyes glossy. “You’re fucking insane.”

“You flatter me.” Kisuke replied, with a smile. It disappeared as he stared at him. “Do you believe what I say?”

Ichigo scowled at him, opened his mouth, closed it and looked away, arms crossed. “How did you even know about it? Where you stalking me again?”

Kisuke could feel the heat rising to his head, embarrassed again about his past stalker tendencies. “I assure you I was _not.”_ His voice might have cracked at the end, but he hoped Ichigo would not notice. “Inoue-san came here, worried about you.”

“Oh. What did she tell you?”

Kisuke stared at him, before lying. “She was worried your soul could have suffered some damage we couldn’t see. But as I told her, you are as healthy as can be.”

Ichigo’s features relaxed, relief coloring his expression. “Oh. That’s good to hear.”

Kisuke wasn’t satisfied with that. “So? Will you believe me? That you are not a monster?”

Ichigo clenched his jaw. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

Something cold clenched his entrails as a rush of ineptitude entered him. Was this really the best he could do?

“Kisuke-san?” Ichigo asked, a small frown of concern on his face. He hesitated, looked away. “Do you really think that the hollow inside me… wasn’t a monster?”

“I stand by what I said. You are not a monster. Never was and never will be. In all of my years of living, I have yet to meet a soul more beautiful and pure than yours.”

Ichigo blushed. He still didn’t look at him as he mumbled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Kisuke smiled. “It’s as if you suddenly don’t know me, Ichigo-kun.”

Ichigo actually pouted at him. Then he crossed his arms and decided to fight back. “Well, if I am not a- a monster, then you can’t call yourself one either.”

The smile was wiped clean off his face. “Ichigo-kun…”

“We’ve been over this. I think you are smart enough to remember. You’re not a monster, you’re not evil. I forgave you a long time ago.” Ichigo scowled harder. “You really should forgive yourself already.”

“You really are unbelievable.” Kisuke found himself saying, voice thick and strained. He rose a hand to his hat and found it missing.

The motion made Ichigo laugh.

“It’s as if that hat was a part of you.” Ichigo said, none of that heavy guilt in his expression. It made Kisuke stare. “Wh-what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just… never realized you were such a fan of my hat.”

Ichigo snorted. “That’s the opposite of the truth. That hat’s ugly. You’re better off without it.”

“You wound me, Ichigo-kun. That hat is one of my redeemable qualities.”

“Sure it is.” Ichigo said, sarcasm heavy on his voice. He opened his mouth and closed it as if thinking better of his unspoken words. They locked eyes briefly before Ichigo looked away.

“Well, uh. That was… I mean, thanks. For taking the time to…” A shadow crossed over his expression, but it left when he looked back at Kisuke. “It helps. What you said. I just… I hope I can believe it.” The teen then made a funny face, as if having to swallow his words. His face reddened slightly. “I have to leave now. Uh. Thanks for everything, as always.”

“Anytime. As always, Ichigo-kun. If you need anything, or even if you have time to kill, you are welcome here. No matter what.”

Relief was splashed across the teen’s face. “Yeah, thanks.” He turned away, ready to leave. “Really, thank you.”

 

And as Ichigo disappeared into the distance, Kisuke wondered,

Was this really all he could do for the teen?

Was this all he could do to atone?

If…

If there was even the smallest chance that his powers could be restored.

That his soul could be mended…

Then Kisuke wouldn’t be the reason, it did not happen.

He had to get to work.

 

* * *

The boy continued visiting the Shoten.

Once or twice a week, alone or with his friends. He would walk in there and greet Kisuke like it was the most normal thing to do. Kisuke returned the gesture and depending of Ichigo’s mood, he would sometimes pause his research to give his full attention to the boy.

Atonement or not, he couldn’t deny the fact that being with Ichigo made him… inexplicably happier.

Ichigo would smile and talk and for just a couple of seconds, Kisuke could dream about a better life.

 

Like that, January came to an end, and the first visit of February was the one they would both remember to the end of times.

 

        

* * *

“Ichigo-kun? To what do I owe the pleasure?” Kisuke had said, more of a cordiality than anything else at this point as he let the teen in. Ichigo glanced at him before deciding that the floor was the most interesting thing in the world.

“I uh…need some quiet time.” The teen mumbled nervously. Kisuke only had time to blink before watching in amazement as the teen in front of him started turning red. Starting at his cheeks, a fierce blush spread across his face, reaching the tips of his ears.

“Did something happen?” Kisuke offered, surprised and amused at equal parts.

Ichigo’s mouth snapped shut with an audible clack and glanced at him like a deer in headlights, looking ready to bolt away from the store. It was almost like he had come here without thinking and was barely figuring out that it was a bad idea, even if the shopkeeper had no idea why.

“…No.” Ichigo said at last, turning a darker shade of red.  He seemed to finally have realized where he was and who he was with– as he openly gaped at an increasingly worried Kisuke– and began backtracking with hasty steps. “Y’know, I think I better head back-“

“Hmm, I think I’d prefer you tell me first what’s wrong before you run away.”

Ichigo scowled and grunted as he exclaimed “Who’s running away?” Kisuke felt himself relax slightly– whatever had happened wasn’t all that serious then.

The shopkeeper cocked his head, as Ichigo grudgingly planted both of his feet facing him and crossed his arms over his chest. He opened his mouth as if about to explain everything and deflated the moment their eyes met.

“Should I be worried?” Kisuke couldn’t help but say, amused more than concerned with how the teen’s face was deciding to rival an actual strawberry.

“No, I’m just, um.” He scowled at the floor, before finally giving up with an awkward rise of shoulders. “Do you know what day it is?”

Kisuke blinked, his mental gears already whirling in place, as he tried recalling the date. Rather than his own genius, it was because Yoruichi had decided to wake him up that day with a rose stuck to a shinai that had nearly stabbed him on the chest.

“Today appears to be Valentines, am I correct?” Kisuke replied blandly, trying not to keep thinking about his friend’s show of affection. Ichigo just nodded to the floor, and Kisuke couldn’t help the smirk curving his lips. “Ah, is our young bachelor hiding away from all the lovely ladies throwing themselves at his feet?”

Ichigo’s scowl turned surly, pouting like a little kid.

Kisuke found it as endearing as it was funny, but he paid for his chuckles with an elbow to the gut. Huffing in place, the shopkeeper let his smirk drop slightly. “How mean!”

“Shut up you crazy Geta-Boushi! I-I just need some time to sort out some _stuff_!” The teen half-shouted in exasperation even as his ear flared up in darker shades.

Kisuke blinked, wondering how upsetting this ‘stuff’ had been exactly. “Well then, Ichigo-kun. You are welcome to talk with me if you need to.”

The alarmed expression on the teen’s face was both comical and worrying. “I’m not talking about that with you!”

Kisuke raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I see I am too old for you. May I offer you a cup of tea, regardless?”

“ _You’re not- I mean…_ ugh.” Ichigo pressed a hand to his forehead, as he tried thinking of a coherent response. “Fine! Yes, tea!”

Not exactly the most eloquent but Kisuke refrained from poking fun at the obviously embarrassed teen as they walked towards the kitchen.

 

 

The teen had already regained his normal pallor, talking normally to Kisuke about tea, the days, about school. And then, as Ichigo looked down at his cup of green tea, he finally mumbled. “The reason I’ve been so jumpy was because today’s Valentines and, well…Inoue confessed to me.”

“Oh, she did?” The shopkeeper mechanically answered, a smile in place even as his mind backtracked instead in astonishment. When the orange head didn’t answer, the blond automatically reached for his paper fan, opening it over his face. “Congratulations, Ichigo-kun!”

“What a-?” Ichigo started in confusing, before horror dawned on him. “Shit. _No!_ She’s not- I’m not- _No!”_  The teen fervently denied (if a bit incoherently), before he snatched the fan away from Kisuke. “And put that stupid thing away, it’s annoying!”

Kisuke barely noticed his precious fan being stolen away. “But then-? Do you not like Inoue-san?”

“She’s just my friend!”

“I had thought that-“

“Not you too…please.” Was the dismayed reply that effectively shut Kisuke up. Ichigo raised his free hand to mess up his hair as he drew in a steadying breath. “I kinda came here, because she didn’t exactly notice the dozens of people that decided to follow –which, okay, isn’t exactly her fault– and now all my friends know and they can’t stop asking and well Inoue for some strange reason ki-ki-ki…did _something_ before confessing –which, oh my god, was pretty much redundant by then– and so after annoying questions I decided to hide.”

Ichigo gasped for breath after that, not having paused even once in his tale. Kisuke just blinked dumbly in his direction as he tried processing the words and the…

“She kissed you?” Kisuke couldn’t help but want to clarify this certain point.  Something a bit different from polite curiosity entering his voice without the shopkeeper’s permission or notice. Ichigo’s dying-animal-noise was taken as confirmation. “…You did decline her properly, right?”

“Of course I did. I’m not that rude. And I swear, she gave me puppy eyes. _Puppy eyes_!” Ichigo repeated, in unbelieving exasperation. “I mean, why? It was almost as if I had refused to share my candy with her! Honestly- Hey- Don’t laugh! I’m sharing my problems here!“ But that didn’t deter the other man; so obviously, Ichigo had to chuck the paper fan back at its owner. Directly to his face.

“Ow! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was just surprised. I had always assumed you corresponded with Inoue’s feelings.” Kisuke said, rubbing at his bruised red nose.

Ichigo shot him an indignant look as he opened his arms wide. “Does it look like I correspond?”

“Not right now…but before-“

“Am I seriously hearing that from you?”

Kisuke smiled kindly. “My apologies, I did not mean to assume. However, I’m curious. Why don’t you like her?”

“What does it matter? I just… _don’t_.”

“So you like someone else.” The shopkeeper stated more than asked, and a splutter of indignation was answer enough. “Ah, I was right. Well, what are you waiting for? She most likely already heard about this catastrophe, so some damage control might be a good idea-“

“What? It’s not-! I don’t-! Goddamit Geta-boushi! I’m not doing anything about it! I _can’t!”_  Ichigo snapped at him, standing up and messing his hair.

“Why not? You’re young, strong and handsome; you should enjoy your youth to the limit.”

“Fuck _no._ Don’t you dare patronize me. Just because I like you doesn’t mean I can simply confess to you!” Ichigo almost spat out, his level-headedness completely nonexistent by this point. But then, the words he had said caught up to him in an instant.

He quickly passed from red to ghostly white in a second as he shot the flabbergasted Kisuke an alarmed look. Time stood still, as all the consequences of his stupid words filled Ichigo’s mind and he barely had the presence of mind to dart away from the shop–cursing, not for the first time, his goddamned lack of power (no human speed could compare to shunpo after all)–, already regretting his coming here today and knowing that he could never ever return again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knooow.  
> This was going to be the last chapter but.  
> But Shinji decided to add his two cents, and the one scene I needed to add became three more and this I decided I should cut it because it was turning out to be too long. Already this chapter is almost 7k, like w h y.
> 
> Kisuke is forgiven and forgives himself, and Ichigo... Oh, poor summer child.  
> Hope you like it! I'll try not to take too long for the REAL last chapter!
> 
> And Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to y'all! If you don't celebrate either, happy holidays, or just have a happy day!


	10. Chapter 10

Yoruichi was sinfully delighted that she had lived long enough to meet the Kurosaki boy. He was a certain source of adventure and amusement every time he got involved in anything supernatural. Not to mention his fierce loyalty and his strong values that would have made the Shiba clan proud.

One could say that she approved of this young man.

So when she saw her idiotically genius friend start developing something a little bit more than ‘just polite interest in his wellbeing, Yoruichi-san,’ for the teen, the woman was obviously amused and happy.

This boy had certainly become a catalyst for the exiled blond. Not only had he managed to make the genius man humbly bow and sincerely apologize, Kisuke had also began getting in touch with his own emotions. He had shown open concern, along as many more civilian, blatant expressions, mostly for the teen at his charge. Whether he was present (or conscious) or not.

With scary ease, the Kurosaki-Shiba boy had also managed to rile the scientist up, and just as effectively calmed him down. She could whole-heartedly say that she was glad (and amused, can’t forget that) those two had met.

Yoruichi had vowed to herself (the only person who could ever hold her accountable) that she’d make sure to watch over them. Because they were both men so they were both idiots in regards of the heart –her old friend even more so.

 

And so, it was the reason she sat there, her tail swishing back and forth as a signal of her impatience as she watched Kisuke flounder about uselessly after the most recent debacle (call her nosy, but there was no way she was missing such juicy developments) and subsequent confession, before getting her claws out and attacking someone’s face.

And by someone, of course she meant Kisuke.

 

That had been how the Shihoin Princess had ended up pinning him to the ground in her cat form (if it wasn’t so ridiculously amusing it would be almost pathetic), her long, lethal claws caressing the thin skin of his neck as warning. She purred, a sound as dangerous as any, as she began questioning Kisuke, her very sharp claws a nice little reminder of why he couldn’t refuse.

(He could get her off, they both knew. If he really tried, he could easily fling her off and run away. But he didn’t.)

Slowly but surely, the truth came in short answers, small bobs and shakes of his head. In the nervous jumping of his adam’s apple.

And of course, in the way he raised his hands in a pathetic attempt at covering his fiercely blushing face.

(But she would forgive him all of these faults if only because he had never known love.)

Kisuke needed help.

 _Both_ of these idiots needed help, this she knew. Not only as a femme fatale herself, but as a _normal soul_ _being,_ she knew both of them were stumped by the simple things _._

So to ensure further amusement–or to help his friend out, same difference– the Shihoin Princess finally took pity on the helpless scientist. With a swish of her tail, she told Kisuke what needed to be done. More or less, she still wanted to see how things would pan out.

(And in the night, when Kisuke could no longer hide his vulnerability, she would be there for him, to staunch his tears and remind him, that he too deserved to live. He too deserved to love. And at the very least, he could atone by dedicating all of his remaining years to Ichigo’s wellbeing. That was the only thing that managed to stop the desolation on his face. That was the only thing Kisuke would live for, and for once, Yoruichi didn’t see any downsides to it.)

 

 

* * *

 

Ichigo had been studying hard. So hard that he was sure he’d ace his next test and climb up in the student’s scoreboard even with his intermittent assistance thorough the school year. So hard indeed that his mind swarmed with equations and formulas and variables and not of what had happened _that day_.

Of course not.

Ichigo sighed, the sound loud and lonely in his empty room, as he finally let the tightly gripped mechanical pencil fall down to his desk. He covered his face briefly as he leaned forward in his chair, before sighing again and heading to his bed. He was going to get nagged at for skipping dinner but he wasn’t in a mood to be with his family right now.

Even with all the school information, the teen couldn’t forget his slip up.

Lying on his back, Ichigo stared at the ceiling, an arm pulled over his forehead. How had this happened to him?

Why had he let those words through?

He had long since promised himself that he’d never confess because he obviously didn’t stand a chance, and he didn’t want to make things awkward between them.

So _of fucking course,_ Ichigo had gone and done just that. Ichigo groaned and buried himself under the covers. He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid.

Maybe he could work something out. He was far past trying to brush it off as a joke– his hurried escape had clearly given him away–, but maybe he could tell Kisuke that he… that he had wanted to say those things to get them off his chest, so he could move on and start on his bachelor’s life.

His human life.

(Ichigo grabbed his pillow and pressed it into his face. Maybe the fabric would absorb everything and he wouldn’t have to admit he was _crying_ over this. He didn’t know which was more pathetic, crying over his crush on Kisuke, or crying for having to live the normal life he had always wanted.)

 

* * *

The next morning, Ichigo woke up feeling stuffy and dehydrated but more relaxed than previous nights. He rubbed his crusty eyes, a bit dazed as he tried to remember what day it was today and if he had school.

It was still too early for his mind to remember to torture him about his many failures.

The teen yawned and stretched and swung his legs around to let his feet touch the cold, sobering floor.

Then he glanced to his window.

Ichigo blinked several times, trying to make the mirage of his dream-hazy mind disappear. It didn’t.

It actually solidified into a silver crane just outside his window. No, not a real one, a small paper crane. It had been stuck in the crack between the glass and the window sill, flattening it almost completely so it wouldn’t fall off. Wary and confused, the teen padded his way over, staring at the paper craft as if he expected it to suddenly combust in flames. He wouldn’t be surprised if it did (he felt even more justified in having rearranged his bedroom so his bed wasn’t directly under the window anymore).

He pinched it with two fingers to secure it, and when it didn’t bite his fingers or something similar, Ichigo sighed in relief before sliding his window open and retrieving the small crane.

He stared at it, turning the flattened paper crane over and over as if trying to discern its secrets.

A spark of child-like curiosity lit up in his chest without his permission. It didn’t have any messages or letters attached that he could see. Not signature, no name.

 Who would have left this to him? And why?

Ichigo poked his head outside the window, looked at the ground and the surroundings, wondering if he could see who had given it to him, or if the letter or signature had fallen out of the window.

To his horror he noticed two more paper cranes tumbling out of the windowsill as Ichigo slammed open the window. The teen half threw himself out to catch the two colorful cranes before they fell off the second floor. With nimble, precise movements he caught them both, neither crushing them or even upsetting the flowers they had attached (a feat he was proud of, in all honesty).

His full body back inside the room, Ichigo scrutinized the three cranes sitting primly on his desk.

The silver crane was smaller than the other two– which were orange and brown respectively. Which made sense, as they were both weighed down by two different flowers– blooming and beautiful as if they had been just cut.

Ichigo stared, his curiosity reaching almost obnoxious levels.

The orange crane had a yellow five-petal flower, and the brown one, a bizarre shaped white flower with a hint of purple and yellow.

And slowly it finally dawned on him, that someone had climbed to his second-floor window to give him flowers. And paper cranes.

_What the fuck._

 

A far more nerve-wracked teen hurried downstairs, after finally remembering he had school after all. As he apologized to Yuzu for not having time for breakfast and accepting his bento, he exited his house trying not to think too hard.

He was so strung-up that he ended up spooking Keigo by smiling at him, and Mizuiro and Chad gave him concerned glances.

But Ichigo couldn’t help it. Because…

Because a name had immediately popped up when he tried thinking about a possible culprit but there was just no way.

(But then again, who would even want to give him a gift?)

.

* * *

“Onii-chan, are you feeling down?” That, coupled with a pair of doe-like eyes was what greeted Ichigo that night upon finally arriving at his house.

(He had taken to long, aimless walks around town after the whole Winter War was over, in a weak attempt to calm his jittery nerves. In what seemed like an entire lifetime ago, these walks had led him to Kisuke’s shop more often than not.)

“Eh-no. What’s with the sudden question?” Ichigo said, defaulting to his big-brother-persona as he toed out of his shoes and ruffled Yuzu’s hair softly. The girl smiled at him, before producing a familiar white flower from her apron and showing it to him.

“I found it on the floor when I was cleaning. I was about to put it on water. The other flower is still where I saw it, don’t worry.” She said as she smiled adorably, walking with her brother to the kitchen.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Not like I’ll get mad, right?” Ichigo rolled his eyes good-naturedly before adding, “but what does this have to do with me feeling down?”

“Ah, well, this flower is called Eyebright. And they mean ‘Cheer up’ in the language of the flowers.” The girl explained, as she returned the flower. Ichigo squinted at the flower with surprise. He had thought that all that flower-language was for love and such. It almost seemed as if the meanings were assigned at random. Not that he said such things to his sister.

“Right,” he said, probably more to himself as he composed himself and ruffled her hair again. “Well, don’t worry. I’m not sad or anything. I’ll be stressed out in a couple more days because exams are coming, but that’s about it.” Ichigo then rubbed his cheek, a bit embarrassed as he mumbled. “And does the yellow flower in my room have any meaning as well?”

Yuzu hummed in thought. “I think that was an Agrimony. Although it’s bigger and prettier than what I remember.” She started, mind trying to link a meaning to it. Ichigo could feel his scowl deepen in confusion. The names were definitely weird as hell. “…If I’m not mistaken, they mean ‘gratitude’. Onii-chan, who gave them to you?”

Cheer up? Gratitude? Had he helped anyone lately?...Well, he _had_ defeated an evil overlord, but that had basically helped the entire universe. On a more private level…nope.

“I have no idea.”

 

* * *

The next morning greeted Ichigo with another crane. This time with a small bundle of light blue flowers. When he asked Yuzu over breakfast, she disappeared into her room to reappear with a book on _flower meanings._ This particular type was apparently called Syringa– weird ass name as usual– and meant ‘You shall be happy’ or something of the like. Just what was going on?

“Onii-chan has a secret admirer!?”

…Again, what?

 

* * *

“Hmm, the book has a different meaning for each color. Yellow is remembrance and white is goodness. Oh, look. ‘An assortment of mixed Zinnia however can mean ‘Thoughts of an absent friend’.’” Yuzu giggled at the surprised look on her brother. “Someone misses you, Onii-chan!”

 _‘And I am missing the point here.’_ Ichigo mused as he eyed said ‘assortment’. ‘ _Why is someone giving me flowers?’_

 

* * *

“Dy…phi-dyplinia…mou, here, look.” The brown haired girl finally gave up trying to pronounce the name and instead shoved the book at her brother, finger pointed at a single entrance.  

The book read: “Dyplidinia Brassinoda: You are too bold.” Ichigo scowled at it. ‘Too bold’ his ass, he had merely stuck a note to the offending window, asking who was gifting him the flowers. He wasn’t being bold, just curious!

Though he wished the sender could have left a real message. He still felt a bit hollow, and weak in the knees, because he couldn’t help but hope…

Shit, when was he getting over _him_?

That night he kept glaring at his window until he dozed off, as childish as it was.

In the morning there was an Hortensia.

“You are cold.”

He flipped.

 

* * *

And that was how the teen’s room started filling with the siege of cranes and the apparently endless stream of flowers. Ichigo had considered ignoring them, but when he did, he would be swarmed by “You are cold”s. Annoying bastard.

But Ichigo was still a bit grudgingly happy. There was someone out there who wanted Ichigo to know that he cared about him. Who persistently demonstrated his affection for the teen. Friend-like affection, he knew.  Anything else would be delirious.

Real, delirious madness.

 

* * *

Yuzu peered at the weirdest flower to date, before flipping the pages of her book. Ichigo had already asked to borrow her book so he wouldn’t be a bother, but Yuzu hadn’t let him. It was fun and she was always happy to spend time with her brother. As well as tease him about his secret admirer.

“Here it is! It’s called Am…” The brunette paused as a small blush made way to her face. Before Ichigo could ask what was wrong, or even look at the entry, the girl snapped the book close and giggled impishly.

“Yuzu…?”

“Hehe, I want onii-chan to look this one up himself!” She stated with a cheerful grin, before sauntering off, mentioning something about dinner.

Confused, the teen set to the arduous task of searching for similar looking flowers.

This little thing looked almost like a weed, with dainty little yellow flowers. Unlike the others, that looked to be in full bloom, as if just plucked, despite it not being the season, or even the region for them, this one seemed to be coated in some sort of polish, so it was more like a preserved flower than anything else.

Ichigo, not being an expert botanist, or even someone obsessed with flowers had some difficulty navigating through the book, pausing several times to squint dubiously between the image shown and the flowers in his hand. He only had a vague idea of which section Yuzu had been perusing, actually didn’t this one right here look just like… Ah, yes. They were perfectly the same, he had done it.

And then he read the description underneath it.

 

_Ambrosia: Reciprocated love._

 

 

* * *

Kisuke was pacing up and down and up and down and up and down, too nervous to settle down. Would the teen seek him out?

Would the teen actually know it had been him?

(What was he even going to do if Ichigo did?)

Maybe the steel colored crane hadn’t been enough of a clue. Most definitively. He knew that his pacing was driving Yoruichi up the wall, but this was all her fault and he wasn’t going to feel regretful about it. He, however decided to be merciful after five minutes of pacing and he exited the shop. And no, he wasn’t scared at all of her, nope.

Kisuke wandered aimlessly, wondering again if he had done the right thing. Though in all honestly, ‘the right thing’ tended to evade him at all costs.  Why had he given in to that cat? He should have just kept his mouth shut. Ichigo’s feelings were most likely only a temporal crush. A feeling of confusion. He should have sought out the teen to explain that to him, not blush and confess everything to his best (?) friend like a young blushing maiden (which he definitively was _not_ ). He would understand if the teen didn’t come today though.

He had been purposefully vague by giving the teen flowers and even with help –Yoruichi had scouted the house and assured him that the twins indeed had a book on flower meanings– he knew it would be hard. Maybe he had overdone it and his cleverly hidden message remained, well… cleverly hidden.

Though before the tired man could continue to wallow in his own ineptitude, someone with no reiatsu signature came careening in his direction. He stumbled to a halt as he reached Kisuke and then just stared at him, as surprised as Kisuke felt.

 “Kisuke…?” Ichigo whispered.

All breath fled the man.

 

* * *

To an outsider, Ichigo could have looked simply as a normal teenager that had gone out for a run, or had forgotten the stove on, and was just trying very hard to regain his breath. In all honesty, Ichigo was trying very hard not to have a massive panic attack as his mind finally caught up with what his stupid body had decided to do– betray him and whatever remained of his pride.

Ichigo gasped and gulped for air and prayed that he wouldn’t cry as he finally came face to face with the very man he had vowed never again to see in his life.

But, his heart cried.

_But…_

“Was it you?” He asked, as soon as he regained his breath, a plea, a beg.

And Kisuke had the gall to tilt his head to a side, smiling blandly. “Was it me that what, Ichigo-kun?”

Really, this far in, Kisuke still had the gall to allow his fear to the uncertain to control his gestures and he could see the immediate effect his words had on the teen.

For one awful second, Ichigo forgot to control his expression and his brow furrowed, his mouth opened. The boy flinched as if he had gotten hit.

Before Kisuke could react, could move his stupid, _stupid_ self towards him, before he could do _something–_ Ichigo schooled his expression, smiled blandly and turned to leave. “No, nothing, sorry. My mistake.”

 

There were many things Kisuke regretted. Many mistakes of his past that had no fix, that he could do nothing but mourn and regret. And with the same certainty that the sun would always rise from the east, Kisuke knew that he would forever regret not saying something right at this moment before Ichigo left.

And so he did.

He called his name, he outstretched his hand, he pushed his self-worthlessness aside, if only for an instant because if there was something in the world he would never allow himself to regret…

Was breaking Ichigo’s heart.

“No, my apologies. That was not what I meant.” He said, head bowed, breath agitated as he held a calloused, cold hand between his own. “I know perfectly well why you are here. I just… I’m just a coward.”

Ichigo was silent, just as scared as Kisuke, but he let him talk.

“But that’s not what I’m supposed to be saying right now, either.” Kisuke laughed weakly. “As you have guessed by now, I was the one who sent you those gifts. The paper cranes, and the flowers… and the messages behind them, I meant everything.”

“No,” Ichigo said, with a hitched breath. “No, that’s not enough. How am I to know we… that the meaning you gave the flowers… is the same… is the same… I mean-“

Kisuke hadn’t thought that dealing with love would be as hard as this. He tried not clenching his own hands, as he looked at the ground wondering what he could say, what he should say to…

To what?

He should not be playing games; he should not be withholding anything from the precious man in front of him.

But what could he say?

What did one say, ridden as he was with sin?

“Each flower,” he said. “ Was selected according to the Hanakotoba. Each message was picked with… with all of my intention.”

“That’s not enough.” Ichigo repeated in a whisper, tired, scared and wrung out. Not even when he had been thrown at Aizen had he looked this fragile. This scared.

Kisuke closed his eyes.  “I gave you an ambrosia.” He confessed, as if he had done some horrible thing. “I… “

Kisuke clenched his fists briefly, before letting himself go. “Ichigo-kun. I have hurt you. I have hurt you in ways that I can’t begin to apologize for.” He began, releasing the other’s hand before he accidentally crushed it.

 Ichigo stared in silence.

“I do not deserve repentance for what I have done. For what I didn’t say, for playing along. I know I do not deserve you, and I wish you understood that as well but… if my presence can make you the slightest bit happier. If being by your side is enough for you, then, even if I don’t deserve it, I will go with you. Wherever you may go, I’ll follow. Until you no longer want me, until you no longer need me, my life is in your hands.”

He didn’t like how Ichigo’s face was almost horrified. “What are you talking about? You don’t owe me anything- I don’t-” Here he had to stop to breathe several times. “I don’t need more lies, if you don’t like me, it hurts less to tell me that I’m a bother, than to say that you’ll… If you want punishment, there are other ways you can atone instead of playing around with my feelings-!”

Kisuke extended a hand to grab Ichigo’s again. “You are wrong in one thing.” And his words are the only thing that stopped the other man from jerking away. “I love you.” He said without fanfare.

His eyes widened, now in surprise.

“I feel like I shouldn’t, but I have fallen for you, Ichigo-kun. Even if I don’t deserve you, I wish to be with you.”

Ichigo looked vulnerable, scared. “Do you really mean it?”

“I swore to myself that I would never again lie to you, no matter what.”

And for the first time ever, Ichigo saw Kisuke cry. Little soft tears of guilt, of pain. They clung to his long beautiful lashes, fell down his face. “I wish you would have never looked at me like this. But now that you have… is it too much to dream of wanting you back? Am I allowed to?”

Ichigo laughed. Soft and shy. “ _Please. Please do. Please be crazy enough to want to be with me.”_

Kisuke still wouldn’t have it, not so easily. “Ichigo-kun. You know what I’ve done. You know who I am. And yet…Are you sure?”

Ichigo met his gaze, and his brown eyes were knowing.

“I’m not… Contrary to common belief, I know my worth. I know how valuable I am to many people here. And I don’t really mind, I don’t expect anything back. But you… ever since the beginning. Ever since before anything of this happened, you were there. And like, I know what you’re going to say that you were watching me or whatever but… you didn’t have to _care_. You didn’t have to listen to me, to care for me. You looked at me, and I could feel like I mattered.”

Kisuke couldn’t open his mouth fast enough, his words a little jumbled together. “You matter so much more than you give yourself credit for. I can’t even begin to express how important you are to those who love you. And… in all honesty, I am not worthy of saying that.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Ichigo stared at him with his earnest eyes. He looked old beyond his years, matured in ways only grief and responsibility could age someone. “If you really were the despicable man you think you are, then how come you shoulder so much guilt?”

“What?”

“Don’t think I don’t notice. You used me, yes. But you gave me all the tools to survive. And, you trained me, and let me fight my own battles, and then your battles and everyone else’s. But without fail, every time I came back. No matter how broken, no matter if I even succeeded, you were there to care for me. To make sure I was alright.” Ichigo’s mouth was still open as if debating whether to add something else. He sniffed and closed his mouth. Then he locked his eyes with him. “And then you just continued looking out for me, you let me stay in your life even when it no longer had any worth for you. When everyone else disappeared from my life, you chose to stay and that’s…”

He was quiet. He swallowed heavily, his brow furrowing deeper before he sniffed and gave him a crooked smile. “And let’s not forget how you still think the Vizard’s thing was your fault. First of all, that’s stupid, nobody ever blamed you for it.”

Kisuke barely even heard this last bit, his mind having closed on Ichigo’s previous words.

“You deserve better.” He finally said in a whisper.

“I deserve what I want.” Ichigo stated with finality. “And I want you.”

(With tears in his eyes, Kisuke drew the man closer to him. He wrapped his arms around him, pressed him against his chest. They stayed together like that, listening to each other’s heartbeats.)

(They were at peace.)

 

* * *

But there could be no happy ending without having the Hero of the tale once again whole and powerful.

And so, Kisuke kissed his hand in goodbye, packed his things and went for a visit to Soul Society.

He walked to the First Division’s barracks, where an assembly had been summoned at his request.

Yoruichi was there, as were all of the captains and lieutenants, looking on edge and tired.

“Urahara Kisuke, what is this urgent matter you wanted to discuss?” The Captain Commander asked, his voice irritated and loud as it carried over the entire hall.

Kisuke bowed briefly. Without further fanfare, he explained.

He explained of plans made, of weeks of research, of crafting a blade capable of holding and transferring reiatsu. Of how much reiatsu would be necessary to rekindle Ichigo’s own.

Yoruichi was smiling at him, proud and satisfied with him. The Kuchiki siblings were both gaping at him (or at least Byakuya’s own subtle version of gaping), as was almost a half of the captains. Those who had been touched by Kurosaki Ichigo’s heart.

Kisuke could almost dream with succeeding.

Then he noticed Kyouraku’s apologetic face, Ukitake’s refusal to look his way. That old geezer frowning, and shifting as he worried over inconsequential things with his lackey. And Kisuke knew, he would be turned down.

Even after everything Ichigo had given up.

They were going to say no.

“The human child is safer without powers,” they were going to say, genial and condescending. “He shouldn’t have powers in the first place.”

No.

No, he was not going to accept this.

He could have waited.

In all honesty, he could have waited for Ichigo’s influence to wreak havoc. For the Kuchiki’s to offer his reiatsu willingly, for them to convince others, for the rippling wave to topple Yamamoto’s denial.

But it hurt him. It enraged him.

And Kisuke…

Kisuke couldn’t do much.

He wasn’t charismatic like Ichigo. He wasn’t powerful like Yoruichi, or even Kuchiki Byakuya. He held no power, no position in this room. Not anymore.

But if there was even one thing he could offer, could bargain…

Kisuke lowered himself to his knees.

He bowed.

He gave up his dignity, his pride. It didn’t matter. What did it matter, if it could help the soul with the earnest eyes?

(It was the least he could do.)

 

* * *

In another universe, maybe, Ichigo would have been stabbed without question, the situation too dire to waste time to explain. But not here.

Kisuke had not allowed Ichigo to fall into despair. And he had been very careful as he explained the hows and the whys, and asked his permission to pierce his heart with the blade.

Even with Rukia hovering in the back, the powered blade in her hands shimmering and shining, Ichigo only had eyes for him.

“Thank you.”

For these words, Kisuke would bow until his back fell apart. He would destroy the entire world with his bare hands if he so needed.

Rukia was the symbolism, the catalyst that gripped the blade. Kisuke was the guide, the fervent wish of righting the wrongs as he angled the blade.

Together they pierced his heart.

 (With each pumping of his heart, power returned to his veins. But what made Kisuke feel weak in the knees and fall harder for him, was not the power buzzing under his skin, but the delicate flutter of his eyelashes, and the curve of his smile.)

 

 END

 

* * *

 

**Epilogue**

* * *

 

Nothing worth anything is without difficulties, and dating Ichigo was no exception.

Ichigo had never been an over eager man in terms of romance. Once life wasn’t chasing him down, he liked taking things slow. But still, when he tried kissing Kisuke for the first time, it was still too early for the both of them.

It had been a spur of the moment thing, a natural development. They were still feeling out the grounds, still discovering what love was for the both of them. Ichigo had been cuddling with the older man, not his boyfriend, but not just his friend either. He was sitting between his legs, resting his back against his chest, feeling at peace with the entire world, as he closed his eyes and let Kisuke hold him tight.

Ichigo couldn’t stop thinking, about how lucky he was. About how the weather out at the park was just perfect, how it wasn’t too hot to be this close to someone. And, overcome with emotion, he had angled his face and leaned up towards Kisuke with very obvious intentions.

But what his lips ended up touching was a slender finger that pushed against him. Chocolate-colored eyes flew open. Before Ichigo could get in a word about it, Kisuke had looked at him, with those eyes that always seemed filled with guilt. “As much as I adore every single aspect of you, I do not think either of us are ready for this level of intimacy. At least not until you are of age in the human world. Even so I’m afraid I’ll continue to feel that I’m taking advantage of your youth.”

Ichigo was scowling at him, and all the older man could offer back was an awkward smile, a sigh and a close embrace. “My apologies, love.”

Ichigo grumbled under his breath, feeling heat rising to his cheeks. “You’re stupid,” he told him.

“Maybe so, but that won’t change my feelings.”

Ichigo scowled up at the sky. Then he separated himself from Kisuke to properly stare at him. Or at least try to, his gaze skittering down to his lap as his embarrassment grew. He drew in a breath, and whispered. “I get it. It’s…. You’re so much older than me. You’ve watched me grow. Kinda. And we’re just still… um, figuring things out but…” He gulped, then plodded along. “I… It does make me feel… undesirable.”

Kisuke drew in a sharp breath. “Ichigo, I-“ He began, but the teen in front of him– _still only fifteen-years old_ – shook his head, something wise in his smile.

“No, I understand. I know you… I mean, I believe you. But I want to be upfront with how I feel.”

Kisuke grabbed his hands, poised in front of him, in a defensive gesture. Without breaking eye-contact, he brought them up to his lips and kissed one at a time.

After that, he leaned forward and kissed Ichigo on the cheeks, on the forehead, on the nose.

“You should know better.” He chided, softly. “You have always been a handsome man.”

 

That said, he proceeded to deflate with a sigh. He too looked older, tired. “You have once again defeated me, Ichigo. But please.” Kisuke said, caressing his cheek. “Please, let us wait a little longer. I want to give you time to mature, to grow into your own person. I know you are mature beyond your years but I don’t want to be the reason you don’t get to live life. I’ll wait for you, as long as it takes. And if you end up deciding that I cannot fulfill your expectations or that someone else is a better match for you. Then I’ll gladly step aside. It is not your fault that you are so young, but it is my responsibility as the older party. “

He smiled when his words didn’t appease his boyfriend. “Besides,” he said, trying to distract him. “You should be focusing on choosing a major, in picking your hobbies. And of course, getting used to having your powers back.”

Ichigo actually whined at him. “You gave me back my powers, and you won’t let me show you my thanks. Do you know how badly I want to kiss you every time I remember this?”

Kisuke smiled. “Hearing you say that is more than enough.”

And then of course he had to add, “and I can avoid going to jail for a crime I actually committed.”

Ichigo scowled at him and kicked him in the shins.

 

(It didn’t matter, not really. Physical intimacy would come later, it was a promise, a vow of a future together. Ichigo couldn’t complain when he had someone by his side, someone to love and who loved him back, who protected him, and cared for him and whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

Someone who would be with him to the ends of times.

And even after.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND WITH THIS, LADIES AND GENTS AND EVERYONE IN-BETWEEN, I OFFICIALLY DECLARE THIS FANFICTION TO BE OVER.
> 
> I can't believe it.  
> Since 2014...  
> ....  
> w o w  
> and lol, while the Skeletons in the Closet were meant as a symbolism, there really were flowers by Ichigo's window. I've been stewing on this for so long, I'm glad the flowers finally saw the light of the day.  
> No kissing because Ichigo's still only fifteen! The confession happened in February, Kisuke wooing him back with flowers lasted until April.  
> But this story wasn't for that, it was for growth, for love, for acceptance and forgiveness. I hope I properly conveyed all these aspects of life properly.  
> If y'all want more physical contact I invite you to check my other uraichi stories, or the uraichi collections.  
> Thanks for reading until now! Thanks for staying with me through typos and mistakes!  
> Don't forget to drop a comment, let me know what you thought of this NaNo-worthy story, no matter how long it's been since it's ended.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to drop a comment!


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